


Chain Reaction

by justafandomfollower



Series: One Plus One (equals one) [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Firestorm Bond, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justafandomfollower/pseuds/justafandomfollower
Summary: Firestorm has returned to Central City to help a newly awakened Barry Allen adjust to life as a metahuman - but General Eiling is still after the nuclear superhero and coming home isn't always as easy as it sounds.





	1. Friends

Barry Allen was pissed. The past day of his life had been a whirlwind of unbelievable activity. He’d woken up at STAR Labs, found out he’d been in a coma and had missed _nine months_ , discovered he had superspeed, and had seen another man call an unnatural fog into being. He didn’t know how to tell Joe, his foster father, about his speed, didn’t know how to explain it, didn’t know how to talk about something that wasn’t humanly possible (shouldn’t have been humanly possible, and yet somehow _was_ , because here he stood), but he knew what he’d seen staring down Clyde Mardon, and he’d never expected for Joe to react the way he had – with scorn and anger.

He knew how ridiculous it sounded, a man controlling the weather, but he’d seen it. The facts fit – the sudden fog during his confrontation with the other man, the freak storms during the recent bank robberies.

But Barry had been in a coma for nine months and the world had moved on without him in it and apparently Joe’s tolerance for his obsession with weird and freak occurrences, already low beforehand, had become practically nonexistent. Especially because Iris, Joe’s daughter, had been with Barry when they’d come across Mardon.

A chance, random coincidence, though it may have been, Joe was still pissed that Iris had been in danger and all Barry could talk about was someone he thought was dead.

Still, Barry _knew_ Mardon wasn’t dead. He’d seen him. Joe wouldn’t listen to him, which meant that no one else in the CCPD would either, which meant that a killer was going to continue to walk free.

And if Joe wouldn’t believe him, he’d find someone who would.

He stormed into STAR Labs – the building that, only a few days ago from his perspective, had been his inspiration, the building that held the people who’d watched over him while he’d been in a coma, the people who were, however inadvertently, responsible for his current condition, and for Mardon’s. He was already half-yelling as he entered the room where Caitlin, Cisco, and Dr. Wells were working.

“I wasn’t the only one affected by the particle accelerator explosion, was I?” he asked angrily. They’d reacted to his speed with amazement and astonishment, more than willing to help him test it, but they hadn’t once suggested that he’d been seeing things. They’d believed him from the start, without evidence of his new abilities. Which meant, now that Barry was finally thinking about it, that they were hiding things from him.

He’d spilled the truth to them easily, and they’d responded by keeping the truth from him. Just another source for his anger.

Dr. Wells hesitated, glancing over at the others, who seemed equally as reluctant to speak. He pursed his lips, as if about to talk, but a sound from behind Barry stopped him.

“No, you weren’t.”

Barry spun around, some of his anger evaporating into confusion at the new voice. The speaker was young, his and Caitlin’s and Cisco’s age. Maybe six feet tall, with a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a heavy backpack, his clothes were old and dirty, his shoes ragged, his hair a touch too long. In all honesty he looked… homeless, and he smelled it too.

But Caitlin lit up at the sight of him, and Cisco grinned, and even Dr. Wells offered him a smile.

“Ronnie!” Caitlin said, pleased, rushing into the man’s arms despite the fact that he looked like he could use a good shower.

“You made it man!” Cisco said, equally as excited, going in for his own hug as soon as Caitlin pulled away.

“We came as quickly as we could,” Ronnie said, also grinning.

But Barry was still angry, despite the obvious reunion taking place in front of him. He faced Dr. Wells again. “You said the city was safe, that there was no residual danger, but that’s not true, so what really happened that night?!” Even with everything that was going on, Barry couldn’t get the image of the car crash victim out of his mind – Mardon’s victim, and only because of what the man was now capable of.

After a moment of hesitation, Dr. Wells explained: antimatter and dark energy, theoretical particles and energy waves with unknown effects – all unleashed during the accelerator explosion.

“We’ve been searching for other metahumans like yourself. And like Mr. Raymond here.” Dr. Wells nodded at the figure who’d interrupted them.

Barry turned to him. “You…?”

Ronnie grinned. “Yeah, though my story’s a bit more complicated than yours. Caitlin and Cisco called as soon as you told them about your speed – they thought you could use someone who knows what you’re going through.”

“You’re not…?”

“Fast?” Ronnie finished for him, shaking his head. “No. I’m something else entirely.”

Barry’s mind momentarily blanked. He’d come here angry about Mardon, but he hadn’t expected for the STAR Labs group to already know about… metahumans, or whatever they were called. He hadn’t expected to run into someone else who’d gained strange abilities. He shook his head, trying to get back on track.

“I saw another metahuman today. A bank robber who can control the weather.”

Cisco grinned. “Cool!”

“No!” Barry cut him off, images of the car crash in his mind, the knowledge of Joe’s partner’s death nine months ago, which he’d only known about since that morning. “This is not cool! A man died!”

Cisco’s grin vanished.

“Mardon must have gotten his powers the same way I–” he turned to Ronnie “–we did. We have to stop him, before he hurts anyone else.” Barry turned to leave.

“Barry, that’s a job for the police,” Dr. Wells cautioned him, but Ronnie stopped him at the door.

“No,” he said, a hand on Barry’s shoulder, holding him back. “Barry’s right.” He took off his sunglasses, revealing pure white eyes that locked onto Barry’s gaze. “We’ll help you take care of this, just… Maybe a shower, first?”

Ronnie quirked a small grin, and Barry found himself smiling back ever so slightly, grateful for this stranger he didn’t know.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, though he still had no idea of what he was going to do to stop, or even find, Mardon.

“Hold on,” Dr. Wells said. “We are not the police. Whatever the two of you are capable of, it doesn’t mean you can just go out on the streets and take on criminals.”

Ronnie raised an eyebrow. “What do you think I’ve been doing the past few months?”

Dr. Wells spluttered and shook his head. “No. Listen to me. I lost everything. I lost my company. I lost my reputation. I lost my freedom. And then you broke your arm, and it healed in three hours. Inside your body could be a map to a whole new world… Genetic therapies, vaccines, medicines, treasures buried deep within your cells, and we cannot risk losing everything because you want to go out and play hero! You’re not a hero, either of you. You, Mr. Allen, are just a young man who was struck by lightning.”

Silence followed. Barry had nothing to say after that, but he knew he couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. The police couldn’t handle it because they didn’t know what they were getting into with Mardon. Barry did.

He turned and left the room, pouring on the speed he’d only recently gotten control of and racing out of sight.

It’d been nine months, apparently, and there was no telling what had happened in Starling City in the meantime, but there was a friend there Barry wanted to talk to.

STAR Labs might not have believed in what he was capable of, but Barry Allen had a feeling that Oliver Queen might just understand.

* * *

Ronald moved to follow after the young man, but the hallway was empty, and from what Dr. Snow and Mr. Ramon had told them, there was no chance that even Firestorm would be able to catch up with him. Barry Allen had apparently woken from his coma capable of running over three hundred miles-per-hour – something equally as out there and fantastic as what he and Ronald could do.

_“We can talk to him later,”_ Martin told his friend, and Ronald, with displeasure but agreement, turned back to the accelerator’s main control room where his friends were waiting.

Caitlin engulfed Firestorm in a hug again as soon as they re-entered the room. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she breathed into their shoulder.

“And no offense man,” Cisco said with a grin, as Caitlin pulled away a second time, “you need a shower.”

“A shower would be nice,” Ronald and Martin agreed at the exact same time, and Ronald grinned as Martin huffed out a laugh because of their synchronicity. Without discussing it, Ronald took a step back and they unfused.

“And perhaps some food, after,” Martin suggested as he reformed. “It was a long flight.”

“Something easy,” Ronald told his friends. “Pizza, maybe.”

“Of course,” Dr. Wells promised easily. Martin studied him – there was no trace of the frustration he’d shown toward Mr. Allen, no trace that he disagreed with how Firestorm had been spending their time in the same way that he disagreed with what Mr. Allen had wanted to do.

A kiss on his cheek distracted him, and he glanced down at Dr. Snow’s loving smile. “It’s good to see you _both_ ,” she told him, and he smiled warmly at her.

After all Ronald had told him, he felt like he rather knew Caitlin and Cisco, despite the fact that they had barely said more than a few sentences to each other in person. “Thank you,” he said.

Ronald glanced over at Mr. Ramon. “The locker room still up and running?”

The young man nodded. “Yeah, we’ll have something to eat when you guys are done,” he said.

“And I’ll call your wife,” Dr. Snow promised.

“Thank you my dear,” Martin repeated.

The two halves of Firestorm – the partners, the friends – retreated, glad to be home.

* * *

 

Having her husband back – embracing him, seeing him smile – was all Clarissa had dreamed about the past nine months of her life. She was overjoyed. She felt as if her smile would never leave her face, even just watching her husband and their new young friends eat.

Except… it didn’t diminish her joy in any way – she knew Martin would be different, knew his experiences would have changed him – but this wasn’t exactly the sort of change she had anticipated.

“Martin used to despise pizza,” she whispered to Caitlin, more bemused than disconcerted.

The younger woman smiled at her, shrugging helplessly. “Ronnie never used to get his with olives,” she countered.

They exchanged a glance, and Clarissa could see that the love and concern she felt for her husband was echoed in Caitlin’s mind for her own fiancé. They both knew that their partners had downplayed their troubles while they’d been on the run, and they both knew that those troubles were far from over. They weren’t out of danger just yet.

* * *

After a refreshing – and long – hot shower, after changing into his own clothes – fresh and clean, brought by his wife – and after dinner – which they’d enjoyed in STAR Lab’s now-no-longer used cafeteria, even Dr. Wells lingering to eat with them – it was time to talk.

Martin sat on one side of the table, his wife’s hand in his. Ronald sat across from him, similarly close to Caitlin, with Mr. Ramon on his other side. Dr. Wells had pulled up his wheelchair to the head of the table.

Martin was cleaner and more comfortable than he had been since they’d left John’s house, and happier than he’d been since he and Ronald had first managed to contact the ones they’d left behind in Central City, and the combination of these two feelings had put both him and Ronald in good moods, despite the nature of what they were about to discuss.

“Eiling’s not going to stop just yet,” Ronald warned the group, once the pizza boxes had been pushed aside, their paper plates disposed of. “We came back because we think we can handle him, but we also don’t think he’s going to stop trying.”

Dr. Snow nodded solemnly, glancing across the table at Clarissa. “We figured as much,” she said. “We just… weren’t sure how you wanted to handle it?” Her tone shifted upward at the end of the sentence, turning her statement into a question.

Ronald grimaced and exchanged glances with him. “That’s the part we don’t think you’re gonna like,” he said apprehensively.

“We can’t separate,” Martin took over, sensing his partner’s reluctance to continue. “We’re vulnerable alone. Ronald and I will have to stay close to each other, and that means…” He trailed off, turning to Clarissa.

“That means you can’t come home,” she said softly.

Martin nodded.

“We were thinking STAR Labs,” Ronald said, with a questioning glance toward Dr. Wells. “This place was built for a large work force – it’s got kitchens and showers and plenty of empty space.”

“You mean, living here?” Mr. Ramon asked, glancing between Firestorm’s two halves. “Just the two of you?”

“Living with one of you guys would only put you in danger,” Ronald told him. “And seeing as I’m legally dead and the professor is still missing…”

“It would be pointless to get a place of our own when such space is readily available. Eiling has no reason to link us to STAR Labs. That is,” Martin turned to Dr. Wells, “if you’d be willing to let us stay here?”

Dr. Wells smiled easily. “Of course,” he said. “We don’t exactly have any sleeping accommodations, but I’m sure something can be arranged.”

“Not that I disagree – with any of your plans – but… you can’t be planning to spend the rest of your lives here?” Dr. Snow asked hesitantly.

Martin and Ronald exchanged glances again. Their instinctual reactions to the idea were the same – repulsion, a sort of mental ‘of course not’ – but neither voiced those emotions out loud.

“The thing is,” Ronald started hesitantly, “that… we, uh. We don’t really have a plan for how to get Eiling to stop coming after us.”

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence, a momentary pause at the unpleasant news, and then Martin felt Clarissa draw herself up beside him.

“Let that be a problem for another day,” she said, “one we can all work on together. For now, you’re home, and that’s what’s important.”

Martin tightened his grip on her hand, reveling in the feeling of her fingers entwined with his own, of her presence, rock solid at his side. He had taken their marriage – their love, their partnership – for granted once.

He would never make that mistake again.

* * *

Despite the knowledge that they would have to go home eventually, that as the days passed they would have to sleep in their own beds each night as Martin and Ronnie stayed at STAR Labs, no one seemed to want to leave. Dr. Wells begged out a few hours after dinner, but Cisco left for only a short while, returning with two brand new double air mattresses and one old and worn single from his apartment.

They found a suitably empty room – somewhere between the locker rooms, a break room with a stove, and the main control room – pushed aside the little furniture and set up their beds.

“I haven’t slept on the floor in a long time,” Clarissa said with a nostalgic grin and a small laugh as they began the process of inflating the air mattresses.

Ronnie saw Martin glance over at his wife and knew from his hesitation and apprehension that he was probably thinking of all the places they’d slept the past eight months. But the professor pushed those feelings aside and smiled gently.

“You don’t have to stay the night, my dear,” he said, though Ronnie was sure that everyone in the room knew that Clarissa would stay, and that Martin wanted her to.

He glanced away from the longing and the love that he felt emanating from the other man, turning toward Caitlin and taking her hand in his own.

“Thank you,” he said, pouring every ounce of sincerity and love he could muster into his own tone. “For… for everything. For understanding.”

Caitlin smiled softly back at him. “I thought I lost you, once, and then I got you back only to watch you leave. I’m not letting go again.”

* * *

Caitlin and Cisco were both still employees of STAR Labs, but there was no strict schedule that they had to keep to, no projects that needed to be finished by a certain deadline. Especially with their comatose patient now up and running – quite literally – there was even less work for the two of them.

It also helped that they were very friendly with their boss. Dr. Wells gave them the next day off easily, and in the morning both Caitlin and Clarissa decided that if Firestorm was going to be spending most of their time at STAR Labs then at least they could make the place habitable, and somewhat comfortable.

“Eiling doesn’t know you’re back yet,” Caitlin argued, “there’s no harm in stopping by our places and picking up a few things.”

Neither Ronnie nor Martin could think of an argument to the contrary – they weren’t intending to _confine_ themselves to STAR Labs, they’d simply needed a place where they could both stay while they were at their most vulnerable. So long as they stuck close, or went out as Firestorm, there was no reason they couldn’t leave.

And so, off they went. It felt almost like moving day, and they spent the morning and early afternoon in a whirlwind of activity. Caitlin’s apartment was closest and they went there first, gathering sheets for the air mattresses, packing Ronnie’s favorite clothes, some books, his old laptop that Caitlin hadn’t been able to bring herself to get rid of, back when she’d still thought him dead.

Then it was off to the Steins’ house, several hours later, where they repeated the routine, gathering supplies to make STAR Labs a little homier, their lives a little more comfortable. The five of them gathered around the Steins’ dining room table when they were done, snacking on vegetables and hummus and pita as they reveled in each other’s company and drank in each other’s presence.

Ronnie felt like he knew Clarissa – and she had no problem with him using her first name – after all that Martin had told him. He could tell Martin felt similarly, and after a few firm statements from Caitlin and an outright refusal from Cisco to be addressed formally, the professor took to calling his friends by their first names as well. (He’d tried calling Cisco Francisco once, but that error had quickly been corrected, Cisco’s exaggerated revulsion to the name causing them all to laugh.)

Then it was shopping, grocery and otherwise, and they brought their spoils back to STAR Labs in the early afternoon, loading up the fridge, placing the dishes they’d bought in the break room/kitchen cabinets. They set up two small, plastic dressers in the room with the air mattresses, unpacking their clothes, and spread some proper sheets and pillows over their beds.

Caitlin had dropped a statement about moving one of the beds later on, so they could have their own ‘rooms’, so to speak – not meaning anything by it – but Ronnie and Martin had exchanged glances, knowing that it would be some time before they would be able to give in to such sleeping arrangements.

Ronnie hadn’t minded it so much, at the Byerly’s home. He’d been more comfortable that way, in fact, but now that they were home… When they did manage to separate, if they did stop Eiling and get to go home…

Would he be able to sleep with only Caitlin at his side, and his partner halfway across town in his own bed?

It was a troubling thought and after an enjoyable day, in good company, Ronnie didn’t want to dwell on it. He pushed it aside and voiced his agreement with Cisco when the other man suggested giving the Steins a tour of STAR Labs.

* * *

Late that afternoon, and early that evening, they turned to more serious topics, discussing Barry Allen, the possibility of other metahumans in Central City, and the possibility that some of those metahumans might be criminals (and those who were not were likely scared and confused by whatever new abilities might have manifested).

They debated warning the city, letting people know that they might have been changed by the strange energies that had been unleashed the day the accelerator had failed. They debated trying to find a way to help the other people whose lives might have been irrevocably altered that night, just as theirs had been. And they debated fighting those metahumans who decided to use their newfound talents to harm people.

Dr. Wells was no longer present to argue against this last topic, and after a slight hesitation from the three non-metahumans present – during which Ronnie and Martin shared some of their stories of the times they’d saved lives and helped strangers as Firestorm – they all ended up agreeing that Barry had been right.

They knew what they were up against, and they had abilities that gave them a fighting chance. It was their responsibility to do something about it.

* * *

Once the others left that evening, Ronnie and Martin had a conversation of their own, and it wasn’t one that Ronnie enjoyed.

Martin settled into one of the office chairs in the room, gazing over their new ‘bedroom’ before turning to Ronnie.

“Despite all this talk about helping Mr. Allen,” he said cautiously, “Dr. Wells is still against it.”

Ronnie shook his head, uncomfortably reminded of his partner’s belief that either Cisco or Dr. Wells had somehow told Eiling about them (Caitlin and Clarissa had long since been discounted). “Look, you don’t know him like we do,” he countered.

Martin gave him a look. “Did you not listen to what he said today? Not only did he adamantly tell Mr. Allen to stay away from this bank robber, but he flat out told him that he wasn’t a hero.”

“He’s not,” Ronnie said, “not yet. The guy just woke up from a coma – his heart’s in the right place, but he doesn’t have any idea of what he’s doing, and he’s barely gotten used to his new abilities.”

“And us?”

It was Ronnie’s turn to give Martin a look, but his was confused rather than skeptical. “What?”

“Dr. Wells is well aware of what we have been up to the past few months, yet he denied our heroics as well and did not even suggest that _we_ might take on Mr. Mardon, as opposed to Mr. Allen.”

Ronnie found himself struggling to come up with a response. Martin was right – Dr. Wells seemed dead set against Barry using his speed to stop the metahuman criminal he’d come across, which didn’t make sense given all that Ronnie and Martin had been doing the past few months.

“We’re not exactly heroes,” he ended up saying, knowing it was a weak argument.

“Perhaps not,” Martin allowed, “ _we’ve_ done little but scare away common thugs. But have you forgotten your own actions in the particle accelerator – the catalyst for our entire situation?”

Ronnie looked away. No one – not even him – could deny that what he’d done certainly qualified under the definition of heroic, and Dr. Wells’ scornful tone about ‘playing hero’ almost spit in the face of what he’d done that day.

But he trusted Dr. Wells, even if Martin didn’t. He didn’t know the other man like Ronnie did.

“He lost the use of his legs when the accelerator exploded,” Ronnie reminded his partner, “and he watched his life’s work kill people. I think he can be excused for not wanting a repeat of those circumstances.”

Martin sighed heavily but didn’t argue. “I suppose for now we’ll have to agree to disagree,” he said.

* * *

Night had long since fallen before they got a hold of Barry Allen again, and only because he called them, asking for their help. He lugged a few boxes into STAR Labs, setting them down under the watchful eyes of Caitlin and Cisco (who had returned after he’d called them) and a merged Firestorm (because Barry didn’t yet know about the dual nature of Firestorm, or the other man in the room with them).

“I’ve been going over unsolved cases from the past nine months, and there’s been a sharp increase in unexplained deaths and missing people,” Barry said, indicating the boxes. “Your metahumans have been busy.”

Cisco and Caitlin exchanged glances; Ronnie frowned. Knowing what the lightning had done to Barry, even while he’d still been in a coma, they’d never imagined that Firestorm was the only after effect of the accelerator explosion, but to see evidence that some of those affected metahumans were criminals, and they hadn’t done anything to stop them, or at least alert the public…

“Now, I’m not blaming you,” Barry continued. “I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“Hold up,” Ronnie interrupted, before the other man could say anything else. “You don’t have to convince us. Dr. Wells doesn’t speak for all of us.” He still wasn’t happy about Martin’s opinions of the other man, but he wasn’t happy about what Dr. Wells had said to Barry either. Maybe the older scientist had changed more than Ronnie had realized, since the explosion.

“I’ve got something that might help,” Cisco took over. “We were talking, while you were gone. Here, c’mon, I’ll show you.”

Cisco led them to his lab, where his main focus the past few months rested on a manikin, practically finished. “It was designed to replace the turnouts firefighters traditionally wear. I thought if STAR Labs could do something nice for the community, maybe people wouldn’t be so angry at Dr. Wells anymore.”

“How is it going to help me?” Barry asked, stepping toward it.

Ronnie couldn’t hold back a small grin as he listened to his friend explain his work. ( _“It is quite a feat of polymer engineering,”_ Martin commented appreciatively as Cisco spoke.)

“It’s made of a reinforced tri-polymer. It’s heat and abrasive resistant, so it should withstand your moving at high-velocity speeds. And the aerodynamic design should help you maintain control. Plus, it has built-in sensors so we can track your vitals and stay in contact with you from here.”

“Thanks.” Barry turned to Ronnie. “And what about you?”

Ronnie grinned. They hadn’t really gotten the chance before to tell Barry exactly who – or what – he was. “Have you had a chance to catch up on the news yet?”

Barry frowned. “A little, but…”

“Heard anything about Firestorm?”

Barry shook his head.

“You might want to take a step back.”

The young man looked around, noticed that Caitlin and Cisco had already stepped a few feet away, and backed up a few paces.

Without further prompting, Ronnie and Martin called on their fire.

Barry took another step back at the sight of Firestorm wreathed in flames, but his face broke out into a wide grin. “Cool.”

Ronnie nodded, then let the flames die.

“Now we just need to find Mardon,” Barry continued.

“I’ve already retasked the STAR Labs satellite to track meteorological abnormalities over Central City,” Caitlin jumped in. “And we just got a ping. Atmospheric pressure dropped twenty millibars in a matter of seconds. I’ve tracked it to a farm just west of the city.”

Barry approached his new suit, then glanced over at Ronnie. “Meet you there?” he asked, tone serious.

Ronnie nodded back, then headed for the exit. “I could probably use a head start while Cisco shows you how the suit works,” he said. “Oh, and, by the way? I’ll be flying.”

He left to an astounded look on Barry’s face.

_“Very amusing, Ronald.”_

Ronnie shrugged, grinning. “What? Not often we get to show off,” he said.

As they exited STAR Labs and took to the sky, wearing the earpiece that Caitlin had gotten them earlier during their planning, Ronnie could feel Martin rolling his eyes.

* * *

Flying over Central City – the city he’d made his home, no matter that he hadn’t grown up there – was made all the sweeter by the fact that they’d been away for eight months. They were home now, and there would be risks and complications because of that, but they were home now, and Ronnie let himself enjoy the feeling of the wind in his face as his city passed by underneath him.

Barry was far faster than him, but Barry was stuck on land. He had to go around obstacles, and he’d had to take the time to put the suit on. As such, Firestorm got to the farm just after Barry did, watching as the young man threw aside a piece of the barn that had almost hit the police officers hunkered down behind their vehicle.

There was a tornado headed for Central City.

“Barry wasn’t kidding when he said this guy could control the weather,” Ronnie muttered under his breath as he drew closer, worry flooding him.

_“Indeed,”_ Martin agreed. _“It’s fascinating!”_

“Also deadly.”

Martin’s mood sobered slightly, but Cisco’s voice came over the connection before he spoke again. “Wind speeds are getting closer to two hundred miles-per-hour and increasing, are you guys seeing this?”

“Yeah, we’re seeing it,” Ronnie answered, landing next to the red-clad speedster as Barry caught his breath. “Any suggestions?”

There was silence for what felt like a long pause, none of them able to come up with a solution.

“What if I unravel it?” Barry suggested, speaking loudly over the wind.

“How the hell are you going to do that?” Caitlin asked.

_“His speed,”_ Martin said, just as Barry spoke:

“I’ll run around it in the opposite direction, cut off its legs.”

They could hear Cisco over the mic. “He’d have to clock seven hundred miles-per-hour to do that.”

“We don’t know enough about what you’re capable of yet Barry, your body might not be able to handle those speeds,” Caitlin told him, worry and concern in her tone. “You could die.”

“I have to try,” Barry said resolutely.

Ronnie put a hand on the other man’s shoulder, knowing there was nothing they could do to help. “Good luck,” he said sincerely.

Barry nodded at him, and then he was gone.

_“What now?”_ Martin asked.

Ronnie glanced over toward the cop car that had apparently beaten them to Mardon’s hide out. He hadn’t extinguished their flames yet, but he did so now, making his way towards the officers. One of them was looking over the safety of the car at the blur of red lightning circling the tornado, but he glanced Firestorm’s way as they approached.

Ronnie kept them carefully back, mindful of the man’s gun.

“You and your partner alright?” he asked.

The man blinked at him, shook his head. “What…?”

“Do you need a hospital?” Ronnie asked, firmly.

The man glanced down at his partner behind the car (presumably – Ronnie couldn’t actually see the other man) but the tornado distracted him again as Barry was thrown clear of it.

“It’s too strong!” Barry said into their connection.

Ronnie tuned him out, trusting Caitlin and Cisco to figure things out, and turned back toward the cops.

“You should go,” he said. “We’ve got this.”

“It doesn’t look like it.” The man’s tone wasn’t skeptical really, just disbelieving – everything going on was a lot to take in, even for someone whose body currently housed two people.

“Even so,” Ronnie argued, “there’s nothing you can do here anymore.”

“And if you catch Mardon?” the man asked, drawing himself up, regaining control of his mind and body.

Ronnie hesitated.

_“We certainly can’t arrest him,”_ Martin pointed out.

But… “How are you going to hold a man who can control the weather?” Ronnie countered, to both Martin and the other man.

With a flash of wind and a sudden explosion of air, the tornado vanished just as Ronnie finished his question. He didn’t wait for a reply. Turning, ignoring the police, Ronnie lit up again, and flew to Barry’s side. The young man was on the ground, hood thrown back, breathing hard. Mardon was standing a few feet from him, with a gun.

Ronnie didn’t think, just acted. He could control their flames with astonishing precision now, and he sent a burst of fire at Mardon that blasted him backward – strong enough to throw him off his feet, but not hot or long lasting, and therefore incapable of burning him. Still, it was a forceful blow, and Mardon didn’t get back up.

“Ronnie? Barry?” Caitlin’s worried voice came through their earpieces.

“It’s over,” Barry assured her, looking gratefully toward Ronnie as he stood. “We’re okay.”

Ronnie glanced over at the policeman, hurrying toward them. “And unless you want the police to find out who you are…?”

Barry hesitated, but pulled up his hood and zipped a couple hundred feet away in the blink of an eye. Ronnie lifted Firestorm into the air, watching as the man threw glances their way, then felt Mardon for a pulse.

“I suggest keeping him sedated, until we have a better option,” he shouted down.

The man glanced up at him, frowning. “We?” he asked.

This time, Ronnie wasn’t just referring to Firestorm’s dual nature. He pointed toward Barry, waiting for him at a distance. “We’ll think of something,” he promised.

* * *

Firestorm landed back at STAR Labs several minutes after Barry Allen got there. Inside the building, Cisco was already gushing over Barry’s speed, the young man standing there in his new red suit, grinning.

Caitlin came to their side, but she was mindful of Martin’s presence, and only placed a comforting hand on their arm, smiling fondly.

Dr. Wells sat in the corner, slightly out of the way, watching it all with a faint smile on his own face.

“That was…” Ronald said, mind searching for words, brain circling through so many emotions.

_“Breathtaking,”_ Martin suggested. _“Awe-inspiring. Good.”_

Mr. Allen had stopped a tornado from hitting Central City, and together they’d saved so many lives in the process.

Ronald nodded. “Exactly,” he said.

Mr. Allen shot them a glance. “What?” he asked, a frown on his face.

Martin and Ronald couldn’t exchange glances, not in the same body as they were, but they did their equivalent – pulling back and turning their minds toward each other, searching out how the other was responding to the question.

“Just talking to myself,” Ronald answered easily, but his emotions were still a giant question mark, a silent ‘should we tell him?’ He hesitated, then with an equally silent wave of permission from Martin, spoke again. “Remember how I said my story was a lot more complicated than yours?”

Mr. Allen nodded. “Sure,” he said, contemplative frown on his face. “Though I’m not sure how much more complicated you can get than unraveling a tornado at seven hundred miles-per-hour by yourself.”

“Like this,” Ronald said. He took a step back, and Martin stretched to the side, and Firestorm separated once more.

Cisco watched the newcomer’s expression eagerly, Dr. Wells watched the process with interest, and Caitlin had eyes only for Ronald. Mr. Allen, however, took a step back, blinking.

“Wha’… What just happened?” he asked in shock, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of them.

Martin wondered if the young man was recognizing him from their brief encounter on the train before the accelerator had exploded. Such a miracle of probability, that they had run into each other on that fateful day, given where they were now.

“How familiar are you with nuclear transmutation?” he asked.

* * *

They were in Central City for good now, or at least, they intended to be, and that came with its own challenges. Barry Allen was a scientist, through and through, soaking up Martin’s explanations of Firestorm’s powers. (Not everything, not nearly everything, because Martin and Ronald were not nearly so trusting anymore, but enough to explain what they were capable of.)

The next day, Saturday, after stopping Mardon and their late-night chat, the six scientists and his wife met again at STAR Labs.

Caitlin sat Ronald and Martin and Barry down, and pulled out her medical equipment. Blood tests, heart rate, blood pressure, pupil reaction… every test she could perform with the equipment she had on her she did so.

“There’s so much we don’t know about what the three of you are capable of,” she said, half excited, half worried, before telling Martin and Ronald to merge and performing the same tests on Firestorm.

In the meantime, Dr. Wells went over the data from the aftermath of the particle accelerator explosion, they filled Barry in on the bare basics of their history with General Eiling, and Cisco rambled about idea after idea – a supersonic treadmill, a suit for Firestorm.

It was Clarissa who asked the big question though.

“What’s going to happen to Mr. Mardon?”

Martin and his partner did their mental equivalent of exchanging glances, still merged at the moment. “We told the police to keep him sedated for now,” Ronald told the others.

“That’s not going to hold him forever,” Clarissa pointed out needlessly. “Isn’t there anything that can be done for him?”

“You mean like a cure?” Dr. Wells asked skeptically, the slight disdain in his voice letting them all know how he felt about that idea.

Clarissa shook her head and glanced helplessly at Firestorm (at Martin, though he wasn’t visible at the moment).

Inside Firestorm’s head, Martin spoke. _“Clarissa is right, sedation is not a long-term solution.”_

“Maybe some sort of… containment field?” Ronald asked, drawing more from science fiction than from any real idea of how to proceed, based on the uncertain flow of his thoughts.

Metahuman containment, fusion experimentation, the best way to measure Barry’s speed, studying the energies generated by the explosion, radiation experiments, cellular microscopy to gauge Barry’s rate of healing… the scientific ideas flew around the room, bouncing from individual to individual. It was thrilling and engaging and comfortable. The seven of them fell into an easy rhythm, passing time without trying to, shifting fluidly from one conversation to the next.

A nuclear physicist, a mechanical engineer, a structural engineer, a bioengineer, a forensic scientist, a physicist, and a librarian, all in the same room together, all eager and excited for what the future might hold.

There were so many _possibilities_ in the room with them. So much hope for the future. Solutions for nuclear fallout, cures for any disease or quick healing for any injury. Lightning fast reflexes and safe nuclear power.

Martin couldn’t forget the dangers Firestorm (and now, Mr. Allen) presented, nor the dangers the people in the room were in, but it felt good to simply hope for the future, to brainstorm idea after idea as the hours passed and the sun rose and set.

He and Ronald went to bed that night alone, sure, stuck in STAR Labs, but far less alone than they had been lately, with a team at their backs.

* * *

The next day was Sunday, and even though Caitlin and Cisco didn’t have to work, they still came to STAR Labs.

Ronnie glanced between the two of them, then over at his partner. “C’mon,” he said, sensing Martin’s agreement. “Let’s get out of here. We can swing by Clarissa’s house and… I don’t know, go to a park or something.”

“But I thought…?” Caitlin asked hesitantly.

“We’ll have to stick together,” Ronnie reminded her, “but there’s no reason for us to remain cooped up here forever.”

“I agree,” Martin said stuffily. “It would do us all good to spend some time elsewhere.”

Ronnie rolled his eyes but was secretly (and not-so-secretly, to Martin at least) grateful for the support, for the fact that they were friends now, and all that meant.

Caitlin smiled softly at him and reached forward to link their hands together. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

Barry stopped by STAR Labs the next day, after Caitlin and Cisco left, and after his job was done for the day.

“Blood tests take a while,” Ronnie told him. “Caitlin doesn’t have any results yet.”

Barry shook his head. “No, I… I know. Besides, she shared all her data with me from the tests she ran while I was in a coma. I’m still going through it. No, I’m…” he paused, thoughtful, considering. “I’m here for a different reason.”

Ronnie didn’t really know Barry – at all, actually, but he could guess the reason for the other man’s appearance. He exchanged glances with Martin over the table they sat at (his partner had been teaching him chess).

“Metahuman to metahuman?” Martin asked over his glasses.

“Something like that,” Barry allowed, fidgeting.

Ronnie nudged at another chair with his foot, inviting Barry to sit. “The professor and I have spent eight months learning about what we’re capable of, and we’re still far from figuring everything out,” he said seriously. “It’ll take time. But anything you need…”

“You can always come to us,” Martin finished for him.

Ronnie didn’t really know Barry – but he could understand the confusion and turmoil that was no doubt going through the other’s head at the moment, the endless questions, the wondering of what came next.

“I just…” Barry stared at his hand, as if seeing his own flesh for the first time.

“No doubt you have a thousand questions,” Martin said. He settled back in his chair, properly ignoring the chess board now. “Why don’t you start with just one?”

Barry glanced up and looked around wildly, mind probably trying to figure out which question to settle on. He shook his head. “There was… there was a car accident, I ran past it on my way here. The driver, she’d broken her leg, and the ambulances couldn’t get through the rush hour traffic. I just… I didn’t even think about it. In seconds she was on the stretcher in the ambulance. I… I didn’t save her life but…”

Ronnie and Martin were both silent, letting the speedster gather his thoughts and come up with the right words.

“I stopped Mardon because I didn’t think the police could. They’re not equipped to… to deal with what, uh, what we can do. But… I think I can do more than that.”

“You want to keep helping people,” Ronnie said, tone gently urging Barry to continue.

“Yes.”

Firestorm exchanged glances again. Determination, righteousness, satisfaction, agreement.

“Well,” Ronnie said, “I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard for us to connect to dispatch, with all this equipment we’ve got.”

Barry visibly relaxed, as if he’d expected them to turn him down.

“You’re not the only one who believes we should use the abilities we’ve been given to help people, Mr. Allen,” Martin said, kindly but firmly.

Barry blushed slightly. “No, I, of course not, I just… he trailed off, grinning sheepishly. “This is so hard to talk about.”

Ronnie understood. “It’s difficult,” he agreed, “finding the right words to describe…” he gestured wordlessly between him and Martin. How did one describe the empathic bond that was constantly flowing between them? The nonverbal cues that Ronnie still picked up on perfectly even when Martin had no body with which to act out said cues? The shared feeling of calling on Firestorm’s flames? The ability to burst into flames at all? How did one describe what it felt like to _fly_? To absorb nuclear radiation? To stop a mugging, a carjacking, an attempted assault?

“Indeed,” Martin said solemnly, and Ronnie’s spiraling thoughts took comfort in his calm determination. (And how could he ever describe that sensation to anyone else?)

Barry glanced between them again. “You two… I can’t even begin to imagine…”

Ronnie offered him a small, understanding grin, and exchanged glances with Martin once more. “Yeah, it’s…”

“Impossible to describe,” Martin finished for him, lips quirking upward ironically as he used Ronnie’s words.

“I just… I want to talk to people about this, but I don’t want to… to put them in danger.”

“Your family?” Martin asked.

“Or someone you love?” Ronnie added.

Barry shrugged weakly, looking anxious.

“Then tell them,” Martin said simply. Ronnie shot him a glance at the straightforward statement, but he didn’t entirely disagree. The professor shook his head. “I couldn’t even imagine keeping my current state from Clarissa. Granted, as we said, our situation is a bit different than yours, but…”

“But it helps, having someone to talk to,” Ronnie finished. Being back with Caitlin, with Cisco and Dr. Wells, discussing Firestorm with them, relaxing, _living_ … It was almost enough to make Ronnie forget about the past eight months he’d spent on the run. Almost, but not quite. He couldn’t forget that life hadn’t quite returned to normal yet, but he’d reveled in every moment he’d spent in Central City since returning. And the large majority of the reason behind that was not the city itself, or the chance to stop running (because they were still hiding, after all), but the people who’d supported him since his return.

Barry swallowed uncomfortably. “But…” he shook his head. “I don’t want to put anyone in danger,” he repeated.

“Well, it’s your decision,” Martin said. “In the meantime, if you need to talk, you can always come to us.”

Smiling gratefully, Barry nodded. “Thank you,” he said, sincerity ringing through his words.

* * *

Again, things shifted. Again, life moved forward. After their late-night talk, Firestorm and Mr. Allen started to spend their days and nights saving the almost-victims of Central (and occasionally Keystone) City. With Cisco and Caitlin relaying police calls to them, they stopped muggings and caught carjackers and rescued innocents from burning buildings.

Dr. Wells, after his help with Mardon, no longer seemed to disapprove, and helped them whole-heartedly when he was around, but he still cautioned restraint and still tried to get Mr. Allen to focus on whatever secrets might lie inside his cells. Martin still wasn’t sure how he felt about the other man, but he did sometimes appreciate having another veteran scientist to bounce ideas off of, despite how engaging and interested Ronald, Cisco, Caitlin, and even Mr. Allen could be.

Word started to spread across Central City of an impossibly fast red streak, and a man on fire who could fly.

Two days after their conversation, as Firestorm and Mr. Allen finished evacuating people from a burning apartment complex, Martin caught sight of a uniform he knew would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

_“Down and to the left,”_ he warned his partner, tone urging caution.

Ronald moved his gaze to the indicated location, and the tight thread of controlled panic that raced through him at the sight of an army uniform echoed what Martin had felt when he’d first seen the man. The body of Firestorm muted their comm. link.

“Maybe he lives here,” Ronald murmured half-heartedly, moving his gaze away from the lone soldier to scope out the scene. There was no sign of any other soldiers, nor of Eiling himself, and no indication that this was an ambush.

Martin’s emotions indicated his skepticism about that idea for him. _“No sign of soot on his clothing, no concern about the fire, and he’s currently staring at us.”_ He stood apart from the crowd too, a sure sign if Martin had ever seen one.

Ronald hesitated, then… “Well then,” he muttered to Martin, meeting the soldier’s gaze from his position in the sky, four stories above him, “why don’t we say hello?”

Agreement passed through their connection, and Ronald controlled their flames to bring them to the ground. The soldier’s eyes followed them as they moved, and he met their pure-white gaze calmly, but both Martin and Ronald noticed the way he tensed, how he shifted to have better access to the gun holster on his hip.

“I take it you’re here for us,” Ronald said, not really a question. His voice was calm, Firestorm’s body held steady, but Martin was aware of the undercurrent of fear that filled his partner. He felt it too, after all.

The soldier didn’t respond. Ronald ignored that, swallowed down his fear and kept their senses alert in case of an ambush.

“Well you can stand down,” he continued strongly. “Tell Eiling to stop coming after us. He’s tried and failed three times already – he doesn’t want to try for a fourth. Next time… Well, let’s just say next time he won’t get off so lightly.”

The truth was, coming up with a convincing threat on the spot, when you weren’t the threatening type, wasn’t an easy thing to do. The truth was, neither Martin nor Ronald had any plans as to what they would do if Eiling tried to capture them again, other than fight back and escape, of course. But the soldier was here, seemingly alone, seemingly watching them, and it had been too good of an opportunity to pass up.

By now though, a small crowd had gathered, murmurs spreading through those watching, wary looks from the firefighters now hard at work dousing the flames. As soon as the police also reached the site…

Ronald took off again, turning on their connection with Mr. Allen and STAR Labs once more.

“What was all that about?” Mr. Allen asked, no doubt having seen the confrontation. Martin spotted him a few streets away and pointed him out to Ronald. “Was that about the general who’s chasing you?”

“Something like that,” Ronald admitted, as Caitlin and Cisco’s questions suddenly gushed over the comm. link.

Ronald glanced backward, toward where they’d just stood. The soldier wasn’t there anymore. He muted the comm. link again for a quick second.

“Did we do the right thing?” he asked Martin anxiously, before turning the connection on once more.

_“Only time will tell,”_ Martin answered, himself unsure. And then, over more conversation from the others: _“But by my book, it’s a step in the right direction.”_


	2. Mentors

“Ready to break for lunch?” Ronnie came up from behind his fiancée, wrapping his arms around her waist. Caitlin was standing in front of her cabinets, sorting medical supplies – she’d spent the morning studying their blood work, his and Martin’s and Firestorm’s and Barry’s.

“Lunch?” Caitlin asked warmly, leaning into his touch, and Ronnie could hear the smile in her tone.

“Mm hmm,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head before pulling back. “Clarissa wanted some alone time with Martin, like a date. I think they’re a few floors up right now. But anyway, she brought lunch for everyone else too. We _could_ eat with Cisco and Dr. Wells, or…” he trailed off suggestively.

Caitlin spun in his arms to face him, smiled gently, then hesitated, concern in her eyes. “This isn’t… isn’t because of the, uh, the connection…?”

She couldn’t seem to find the right words, but Ronnie knew what she was saying. He felt a tinge of anxiety at Caitlin’s worry, but pushed it aside. He was his own man, even if she wasn’t sure about that. “Martin is pretty happy and in love right now,” he admitted, “but this…” He leaned forward, kissing her forehead gently with a smile. “This is all me.”

He’d long since learned to tell the difference, and though there was no telling how much his emotions were _influenced_ by the professor’s, they weren’t _created_ by him.

Caitlin smiled up at him, then pushed herself up on her toes to envelop him in a proper kiss. It looked like they were dining alone then. Ronnie gave himself into the kiss, perfectly okay with that.

* * *

Ronald entered ‘their’ room, and Martin glanced up from his paperback to meet his partner’s eyes. There was awkwardness and slight embarrassment from both sides of their bond, as well as an indescribable emotion that Martin knew came about because there was nothing to get embarrassed about and yet they were embarrassed anyway – some sort of mixture of guilt and sheepishness.

“That was…”

“Different,” Ronald finished for him, looking uncomfortable as he hovered in the doorway and avoided Martin’s gaze.

Martin nodded, slightly uneasy. “We’ve felt each other’s emotions for… for those we are romantically inclined towards but that was much more…” he trailed off again.

“Physical?” Ronald suggested.

Martin grimaced, swallowed, and nodded again. There had been no room for modesty when they’d been on the run and he and Ronald had become completely comfortable with each other physically (in a familial, platonic sort of way) in a way that Martin didn’t share with really anyone else. His relationship with Clarissa was entirely different, which he had always known but was only now really thinking about.

“We’re never going to be able to live completely separate lives, will we?” he asked. He no longer thought about just walking away from Ronald when they were done, if they got Eiling to back off, but in truth that might have been because he didn’t really believe Eiling would ever stop coming after them.

“I… I was thinking about that, actually. About Firestorm, after Eiling.”

Martin raised an eyebrow, encouraging Ronald to continue. Finally stepping into the room, sinking down onto his air mattress, the young man did so.

“Let’s say that Eiling stops coming after us, that we’re one hundred percent certain he’ll never attack again. Would you stop being Firestorm?”

Ronald didn’t seem to expect an answer immediately, which was good because Martin didn’t have one. His old life seemed so far away, lectures and conferences and research and vying for funding amongst his peers. And yet it had been his life for so long – decades – that Martin could easily see himself falling back into its comfortable routine. Couldn’t he?

Or was that all just a dream? Could he really go back to the way things were before knowing what he did now, having experienced what he’d gone through? Did he want to?

Not to mention, Martin wondered, was it even possible? He had no explanation to give to the police to explain his absence and rescind the missing person’s report, and Ronald had no explanation to give to explain how he’d survived the accelerator explosion, and where he’d been in the meantime.

He glanced over at his partner and mused to himself, not for the first time, how much younger than him Ronald was. How much of his life he still had ahead of him.

“I will admit,” Martin finally said, “that the possibilities Firestorm presents are intriguing. I’m not sure I would be able to give up the chance to fully understand all that we might be capable of, even without Eiling as a motivator. But it is because of my need to experiment that we got into this mess in the first place, and I would understand if you wanted nothing to do with that.”

Ronald rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure your ‘need to experiment’ was what saved my life – remember Professor?”

At that, Martin couldn’t help but quirk a small smile. “There is that,” he agreed. “Still…”

Ronald sobered. “I know. I know what you mean.” He pulled his hand off the mattress beside him, looked at it. “Are _you_ okay with it?” He looked at Martin curiously. “I mean… Firestorm may be a partnership but it’s not exactly… equal.”

Martin grimaced, shrugged, remembering those few moments months ago when they’d woken as Firestorm for the first time and he’d had no clue of what was going on, or why he was in a body he couldn’t control. He gave up that control, again and again, every time he merged with Ronald. “You know that I am,” he said.

Ronald grimaced as well. “I know that you have to be,” he countered. “But if there was no threat to our lives…”

“I have enjoyed these past few weeks,” Martin admitted carefully, “being myself again. But I am still _me_ , even when I am Firestorm, even without a certain amount of control.” He couldn’t deny that some part of him wondered how things would be different if their roles were reversed, that sometimes he wished that were so – but how to tell Ronald that? Should he?

He shook his head, refocusing. “Besides, we are forgetting the other reason that we tend to merge these days.”

“I don’t know if I would be able to give that up,” Ronald admitted. “Though Caitlin worries.”

Martin found that he rather agreed. It would be hard to give up helping people, knowing what they were capable of. “Of course, even if we remain Firestorm on occasion – and it appears as though we are leaning towards that decision – there is still the matter of our original question: will we be able to _separate_ our lives?”

Ronald looked away, then around the room, grimacing. He took in their belongings, the way they’d been living the past two weeks. “Maybe we _should_ try for separate rooms,” he suggested, though his emotions told Martin that he didn’t really want to.

Martin didn’t think much of the idea either. “While Eiling’s still a threat?” he countered.

Ronald’s grimace deepened. “We’ve got others who can help us now,” he pointed out. “Maybe we have become too… dependent.”

“I don’t believe it’s a bad thing that we get along these days,” Martin said, bristling, picking up on Ronald’s displeasure and uncertainty.

But Ronald bristled in turn, seemingly at Martin’s own reaction. “I didn’t say it was,” he half-snapped, “but I’d like to be able to go home one day.”

Martin gritted his teeth, frustrated with the sudden turn the conversation had taken, then forced himself to wait a moment and collect his thoughts before speaking. There was fear in the back of Ronald’s mind too, and Martin didn’t think it was fear of their partnership or even of Eiling. He remembered yet again how young Ronald was, and knew that his partner was only asking for the hope of a normal life one day.

He too wanted to go home to one day, home to Clarissa, and if they couldn’t even manage to sleep in separate rooms then that didn’t speak well to their future.

Shaking his head, Martin gave in, even though it left an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. “Very well. We can try and spend some time apart, the next few weeks. And… separate our bedrooms as well, I suppose. The others are expecting us to do so anyway.”

Ronald winced at the bitter tone Martin’s words had taken, and his emotions proved that he was equally as apprehensive, but he glanced away and didn’t disagree.

* * *

Ronnie entered the main control room to the sound of Caitlin’s angry ranting and the sight of Barry Allen, shirt open as he sat on a medical cot. He’d been up on the roof, trying to avoid the professor as they’d agreed upon, and it had taken him a while to make his way down when he’d seen a blur of red race into the building. Martin was already there, as were Cisco and Dr. Wells.

“What’s going on?” he asked, interrupting his fiancée’s tirade. He and Martin had become mentors, of a sort, to Barry, and even though they’d only known each other a few weeks he had grown to like the cheerful young forensic scientist.

“ _Someone_ ,” Caitlin said accusingly, glaring bitterly at Barry, “decided to withhold important information from his doctors.”

Ronnie felt a spike of anxiety. “Side effects?” he asked, stepping forward. But Martin seemed mostly calm, only a tinge of worry in his own emotions, so Ronnie relaxed somewhat – until he realized that he’d been relying on the other half of Firestorm again, when they’d already agreed to try and live separate lives.

He tensed again, frustrated with the confusing swirl of emotions filling him, and barely heard Caitlin’s reply.

“We don’t know yet,” she said, tense. Then she relaxed slightly, turning to look at him fully. “But it’s probably to do with Barry’s unique physiology – if you and the professor haven’t felt anything yet it’s unlikely that you will.”

Ronnie and Martin exchanged glances. No, there’d been no side effects of their changed physiology, at least, none that negatively impacted their health.

“C’mon,” Cisco said, gesturing for Barry to stand and follow him. “Let’s figure out why you fainted.”

As the three other young scientists filed from the room, Ronnie was left with Dr. Wells and Martin. Studiously ignoring the professor (they were _supposed_ to be trying to spend time apart, supposed to be trying to ensure that they would be able to live without the other), Ronnie turned to _his_ mentor.

“Fainting?” he asked, hoping Dr. Wells had the whole story.

* * *

An hour later, after Barry passed out while trying Cisco’s new treadmill for the first time, everyone was relieved to know that the speedster’s problem was simply that his new advanced metabolism simply required much, much more food – no serious issues to solve, just a change in diet.

It was late by then, and Cisco and Caitlin and Dr. Wells packed up, heading home for the night and leaving Ronnie and Martin alone with Barry, who lingered, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Is there something you wanted to say?” Martin asked, raising an eyebrow at the other metahuman.

Ronnie stopped himself from glancing over at his partner but didn’t leave. Maybe he and Martin needed to be able to live apart, but they also needed to be able to work together, and this was clearly metahuman business.

Barry shifted, frowned, looked away, then glanced back. “I… I want to tell Iris,” he said. “There was… We were at an event, for Simon Stagg–” Martin opened his mouth but Ronnie silenced him with a glance “–and gunmen showed up. I got the guard out of there safely, but I passed out when I tried to go after them.” Barry shook his head. “Iris had no clue what had happened, I think she was worried that it might have been related to my coma.”

Martin shot Ronnie a questioning glance, then answered for the both of them. “As we said earlier, neither of us will stop you from sharing your newfound abilities with those who care for you.”

Barry nodded. “No, I, I know, I was just, um… I thought that maybe if she met Firestorm too…?”

Proof, that it wasn’t just Barry. That other people knew what was going on and had been equally as affected. Ronnie could understand why Barry would want that.

He gritted his teeth, met Martin’s gaze again, and raised an eyebrow. _What do you think?_ his emotions and expression asked.

Martin shifted his shoulders carelessly, raising both eyebrows as if to say _Why not?_

* * *

Iris West liked to think that her life was relatively well put-together. True, she didn’t know where she would be in five years, but even if her future was uncertain she’d always been the type to live in the present anyway, and her present was well in hand. She was working for her college degree and she had a job in the meantime, one with not-too-horrible hours and not-too-horrible pay.

She had a best friend, a boyfriend, and a father who all loved her, coworkers she enjoyed spending time with, and friends she could call up and hang out with when she wanted to. Life was, if not perfect, going fairly well for her.

Except… Except her best friend had just passed out the other day, only a few weeks after he’d woken from a nine-month coma. Iris had done her research – she knew most people didn’t recover from comas as quickly as Barry had. She’d been willing to chalk it up to good luck, but maybe Barry wasn’t as recovered as he’d been pretending to be.

And while Iris was happy dating Eddie, he was also her father’s partner, and they’d had to keep their relationship a secret thus far – only Barry knew they were together.

And on top of all that, her father had been jittery and distracted lately, shaken, Iris thought, by something he’d seen in the line of duty. Except Joe West had been a cop a long time. Iris hadn’t thought there was anything left that could rattle him so badly. Eddie wasn’t talking either. Whatever it was her father had seen Eddie either didn’t know or wasn’t willing to share, but he’d been a bit distracted lately as well, which made Iris think that he knew at least part of the story.

All in all, it had been a fairly stressful week. So when Barry showed up at Jitters at the end of her shift and asked her if she had time to talk, Iris was suitably worried. Too many worse case scenarios raced through her head as she moved mechanically through her last ten minutes: she tried not to think too much of her visits to Barry in the hospital but images of him flat lining as doctors frantically tried to restart his heart kept invading her thoughts.

By the time the two of them got in a cab together, Iris’ heart was racing and her palms were sweaty.

“Is everything alright?” she found herself asking somewhat frantically as the door shut behind her, her concern for her best friend overriding her curiosity about where they were going.

It didn’t help that Barry seemed nervous, meeting Iris’ eyes hesitantly before looking toward their driver. He grimaced. “Yeah,” he said, words contradicting his expression, “yeah, everything’s fine. I just…” He shook his head, bit his lip.

Iris hadn’t seen him this nervous since he’d gotten the job at the CCPD. She reached over and took his hand, feeling his familiar thin fingers in her own. “Hey,” she said gently, trying not to let the worry she felt in her gut enter her tone. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, you know that right?”

  _Please let him be okay_ , she pleaded to herself. _Please let this not be because of the lightning._

Barry seemed to relax at her words, or maybe just at her hand in his. “Once we get there,” he promised, smiling at her. “Everything _is_ fine.”

Iris smiled back at him, and kept her hand where it was when Barry didn’t pull back. She hoped he meant it. (Not that she didn’t believe him, but sometimes Barry tended to downplay his own troubles when he didn’t want people, namely her and her father, to worry.)

* * *

The cab ride wasn’t too long and eventually they stopped in the street in front of what was left of the STAR Labs particle accelerator.

“What are we doing here?” Iris asked as Barry paid the driver and the two of them stepped out onto the pavement. She would never forget the last time she’d been here. She’d been with Barry then too, and a thief had distracted them both from watching the accelerator be turned on. Iris had wondered more than once what would have happened had her laptop bag not been stolen that night, but she knew better than to go down that road even in the privacy of her own thoughts. What had happened to Barry was not her fault. (It was a thought she knew to be true, but still bore repeating every now and again in order for Iris to believe it.)

“I need to show you something,” Barry said again, “and there’s someone here who can help with that.”

Iris didn’t know what to think about that, or what to think about STAR Labs (they’d caused so much destruction, but had saved Barry’s life), but she followed after her best friend as they slipped through the chain link fence and toward the decrepit building. Parts of it were still in pieces after the events of that fateful night nine months ago but it was clearly still in use because Barry swiped a card at the front door and the lock clicked green.

He held it open for her and Iris stepped inside tentatively. The hallways were dark and unlit, but there were enough windows for her to see where they were going as Barry set off again. He took her to an elevator which carried them underground, then kept going until they were in an empty room.

Or at least, it was empty in terms of furniture. The walls and floor were bare, making the room seem bigger than it was, and the only thing inside wasn’t a thing but a person, apparently waiting for them.

He gave Iris a soft smile which she hesitatingly returned. The large empty building had creeped her out slightly on top of her worry for her best friend and the sight of a guy wearing sunglasses indoors, waiting in the center of an empty room for her and Barry, wasn’t helping any.

“This is… this is a friend,” Barry decided on, looking between the two of them.

“A friend?” Iris asked, uncertain why they were avoiding names.

“You might have heard of us,” the ‘friend’ said, taking off his sunglasses. “I’m Firestorm.”

Iris’ surprise at his pure white eyes was nothing compared to the shock she felt at hearing his introduction. “ _The_ Firestorm?” she asked in surprise, momentarily forgetting Barry as she took an eager step forward.

But Barry reminded her of his presence by reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder, preventing her from stepping closer to the other man. Firestorm inclined his head, seemingly amused by her eagerness, took his own step back to increase the distance between them that she had just closed slightly, and proceeded to prove that he was who he said he was.

The sight of a man on fire took Iris’ breath away. She shook her head in awe, in disbelief that she actually got to see the sight with her own two eyes – she hadn’t paid much attention to Firestorm at first, believing that the rumors of his existence were probably untrue along with the rest of the country, but by the time he’d arrived in Central City Iris was definitely a fan.  

“I knew you were real,” she said, victory in her tone. All the questions she’d had stored up came boiling over, overriding her worry and concern from only moments ago. “Why’d you come to Central City? Is the red streak real too?”

“Iris.” Barry’s voice was suddenly cautious, reminding her of where she was and who had brought her there. All of a sudden she had a million more questions – why did Barry know Firestorm? – but the look on her best friend’s face was enough to get her to hold off from asking any of them.

All but one. “Barry…” she started, worried again. She glanced between the man on fire and her nervous friend. “How do you…?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Barry said. “I… he hesitated, glanced over at Firestorm. “I’m the red streak.”

Iris blinked. She stared at Barry, only cursorily aware of the flickering flames still emanating from Firestorm in the corner of her vision, then blinked again. “What?” Her tone wasn’t so much disbelieving as it was confused. Her brain didn’t seem to be able to process what Barry had said.

She’d heard his words clearly ( _“I’m the red streak”)_ but she seemed incapable of comprehending what all the words meant when put together. Her vision had tunneled, all sense of anything other than Barry had evaporated. In that moment, her best friend became her whole world as Iris frantically tried to understand what he had told her.

“I’m the red streak,” Barry repeated, and then, perhaps sensing her skepticism, perhaps aware of her lack of understanding, or perhaps just because he’d planned to do so all along, Barry followed Firestorm’s lead and proceeded to prove that his claim was true.

He was there, and then gone, and then there again. It took Iris a moment to realize there was a coffee cup from Jitters in his hand, and that it was still steaming.

She blinked again. “You…?” For a moment, words wouldn’t come, but Iris West was never speechless for long. “Oh my God, Barry! _You’re_ the red streak! How…? Why…? I have, I have so many questions!” Her gaze flickered up and down his slender form. “Is this, is this because of the… the…”

“The lightning?” Barry finished for her. He hadn’t moved since he’d reappeared with the coffee, gaze locked firmly on her. He seemed wary, but relieved. “That and the particle accelerator explosion,” he answered.

Belatedly, Iris remembered that the two of them weren’t the only ones in the room. Her vision expanded once more, her hearing returned, and she moved to face the flames still flickering off to the side.

“So…” she started, tiling her head. “You’re originally from Central City? That’s why you came back?” Her brain ran through all she knew about Firestorm, all the rumors she’d read and the content she’d posted on her blog. She compared his timeline to her own. “Because Barry woke up?”

Firestorm inclined his head in agreement, a small smile on his face, but he didn’t say anything and Iris returned her attention to her best friend.

She took a step forward, raising a hand tentatively, but couldn’t decide on where to put it. “Are you…? Is everything…?”

“We’re being careful Iris. So far, there are no side effects.” Barry’s lips quirked upward ironically. “Other than the obvious, of course.”

Iris shook her head. She had so many questions, too many for her brain to narrow down the options and pick just one. Her entire worldview had just exploded and all her problems from earlier that day seemed to pale in comparison to what Barry had just told her. Eventually though, after what seemed like minutes but was probably only a second or two, one of her questions forced its way to the front of her mind.

“Does my dad know?” she found herself asking, almost without thinking. Joe West had been jumpy lately, distracted and frazzled. Maybe this was why.

Barry quickly shook his head. “No but… but he saw…” He paused, glanced over at Firestorm again. “Iris, we aren’t the only metahumans out there.”

“Metahumans?”

“People altered by the accelerator explosion,” Firestorm answered, extinguishing his flames and stepping forward. He met Barry’s gaze firmly. “If you need us,” he continued, “we’ll be just down the hall.” With a final nod and a kind smile directed at Iris, he left the room.

Iris’ brain was still cycling through a hundred possible questions, too busy to even process that the fiery metahuman had said ‘we’. She turned back to Barry, still somewhat speechless, still taken aback, still reeling from information that she knew would change her life forever.

“Tell me everything,” she demanded.

* * *

  _“Leaving a bit early, don’t you think?”_

“You just don’t think Barry will be able to explain the metahuman thing properly.”

Martin treated that statement with w feeling of disgruntlement. _“He_ asked _us–”_

“To help prove that he was telling the truth,” Ronnie interrupted, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “Not to get involved in his personal life.”

_“His_ personal _life? They were discussing his –_ our _– abilities!”_

“No,” Ronnie countered, “just his. It’s none of our business Martin.”

Inside Firestorm, the professor tugged at their connection instead of responding. Well, that was fine with Ronnie. If the man wanted to storm off and sulk because he couldn’t handle being cut out of a private conversation that had nothing to do with them, that was his choice. Ronnie wasn’t going to try and argue the point. He’d had enough arguing the past few days.

He gave in to the separation.

* * *

Later that afternoon Ronnie was relaxing at his usual spot these days – the roof of STAR Labs – when his phone rang. A minute later he was racing down the stairs again, cursing his and the professor’s decision to try and spend some time apart once more.

He was useless without the other man, which was their entire problem but also meant that he _needed_ him. At least, he needed him when Firestorm was needed.

Martin ran into him in the control room, perhaps picking up on his panic.

“What is it?” he asked in a rush. “I assume Mr. Allen needs our help for some type of emergency?”

Knowing that Barry was so much faster than them, and probably already in trouble, Ronnie just stretched out a hand as he continued his fast pace toward the other man. Martin frowned but didn’t hesitate to take it and Ronnie finished the merge facing the doorway again. He sprinted for the nearest exit.

“You assumed correctly,” he managed to get out between breaths. “Armed gunman. Attacking Stagg.”

_“So it wasn’t just a random robbery,”_ Martin said, much calmer given that _he_ wasn’t the one running through STAR Labs’ halls. _“Stagg is being targeted.”_

Ronnie didn’t waste breath responding. He pushed open the door in front of him and took to the sky.

By the time they got to the warehouse in question the civilians had been evacuated but it was five on one and Barry wasn’t doing so well. Ronnie didn’t stop to ask questions. He let loose a blast of fire as he flew through the narrow aisles, one wide enough and strong enough to push all five men off of the red-clad speedster.

Barry staggered to his feet, throwing them a grateful look.

_“If I’m not mistaken,”_ Martin pointed out, _“those five men are identical.”_

“Worry about that later,” Ronnie mumbled in response, focusing more on the fact that those five men were getting up again.

Martin responded with slight disgruntlement, but he didn’t continue the conversation.

In the meantime, the line of five turned to face the two heroes standing side by side. Though the speedster hadn’t seemed to rattle them, the sight of Firestorm and Barry together seemed to be giving them second thoughts. Four of the men stepped forward simultaneously, closing ranks around the fifth.

“Can you get some rope or something?” Ronnie muttered to Barry, wondering how they were going to contain everyone.

Barry hesitated, clearly thinking, but before he moved the man in the back seemed to shake. In moments there was another copy of him, then another and another. Barry and Ronnie began to fight and blast their way through the onslaught of copies in front of them but by the time they got to the end there were ten unconscious men on the ground in front of them and no guarantee that they’d caught the original.

Pulling off his hood, reveling cuts on his face from the beating he’d taken, Barry huffed angrily. “That could have gone better.”

* * *

They got the group together after that, of course, and for the next half-hour Ronnie listened in as they discussed Danton Black – the metahuman they’d fought – his work with Stagg Industries, the fact that Stagg had stolen that work, and the metahuman abilities that Black now possessed. But Ronnie’s heart wasn’t really in the conversation even as the professor became enthralled with the possibilities Black’s ability presented, and he could tell that Barry wasn’t very focused either.

Ronnie’s reason for being distracted was Firestorm, and the constant pushing and pulling of his relationship with the professor. They wanted to live apart one day, but they needed to be close to remain safe, and to be of any use as Firestorm. It was a paradox he wasn’t sure how to solve and that had brought tension to their relationship, but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t what had put the forlorn look on Barry’s face.

As Martin and Caitlin gushed about stem cell research with Dr. Wells and even Cisco contributing, Ronnie caught Barry’s eye and jerked his head to the side.

“What’s up?” he asked once the two of them stood separate from the group.

“I got my ass kicked today,” Barry said. “I could barely go up against one metahuman, let alone ten.”

“Yeah,” Ronnie agreed. “But we can’t always be victorious. Black got away, and that sucks, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned as Firestorm it’s that any battle you can walk away from is a win.” Three times he and Martin had narrowly escaped Eiling’s grasp, three times they’d staggered (or flown) away from him and his men – not necessarily victorious, but _alive_ and free. That mattered.

“But I’ve been thinking about that too,” he continued. “You and I, and the professor too I suppose, we want to help people, but we don’t really know how, do we?”

“I know what Joe would say – leave it to the cops.”

“Pretty sure we’ve already talked about that.”

Barry looked away briefly, still upset by his loss, then seemed to straighten, meeting Ronnie’s eyes determinedly. “The cops don’t know how to handle metahumans,” he said, repeating the phrase that had been why he’d decided to fight in the first place.

“Exactly,” Ronnie agreed. “We’re new to this, and there’s a lot we have to learn, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do it. Black’s still out there, and we’re going to help stop him.”

Barry still looked uncertain, but he didn’t disagree. Glancing over at the rest of the group, Ronnie could see that the discussion had pretty much wrapped up and the professor was sending glances his way. He reached up to clap Barry gently on the shoulder.

“Now,” he said. “I think my partner and I need to talk.”

* * *

STAR Labs was a large building, with long, dark, and empty corridors, thousands of empty rooms, with those that had furniture in them covered in sheets. Sound echoed oddly in certain places and Martin preferred to stay close to areas that had windows or, since that was somewhat dangerous, in his and Ronald’s underground rooms.

But he’d lived in the building for a few weeks now and however unsettling the empty halls could get at times, Martin knew the layout now pretty well. After the discussion on the newest metahuman they’d come across, he and Ronald walked through the halls side by side for the moment, irritation coming from both of them.

Martin knew his irritation came from their situation and was not directed at Ronald specifically, but though their empathic connection showed him that Ronald was also irritated it didn’t help him to know the cause of the other man’s stress – which only served to add to his own irritation and anxiety. It was a vicious cycle.

Part of his irritation too, he knew, was from a lack of sleep. It was taking him longer than normal to fall asleep these past few days, without knowing that Ronald was at his side, and when he’d woken from a nightmare his sleep addled brain had panicked even further when he couldn’t find his partner. Of course, that was a vicious cycle too, because Martin’s inability to sleep was equally frustrating. Sleeping irritated him because Ronald wasn’t there and not sleeping irritated him just as much because he was a grown man – an old man, really – and he shouldn’t _need_ the other man at his side to rest.

All in all, he wasn’t in a good mood. Judging from the way they walked in silence, anger simmering just under Ronald’s surface as well, his partner was trying to find the words to say so.

“There’s got to be a better way to do this,” Ronald finally burst out, unable to contain his frustration any longer.

Martin shook his head. “With Eiling as a threat we will always be torn between remaining safe and living our own lives.”

“So let’s eliminate the threat!”

Martin threw Ronald a look. As if they hadn’t already thought of that.

“We cannot take the battle to Eiling,” he said anyway. He knew Ronald was just frustrated but was unable to stop some of his own irritation in coming through his tone.

Ronald gritted his teeth and kept up his relentless pace through the halls as they walked and talked. “Why not?” he countered angrily. “ _You_ don’t have to do anything anyway. _I’d_ be the one forced to injure – or kill – Eiling’s men!”

Martin stopped abruptly and Ronald walked only a few more steps before turning to face him. He seemed to realize immediately that he’d gone too far but Martin barely noticed. His own anger had left him speechless. As if he wasn’t affected by the actions Firestorm did! It was his matrix, his fault that they had the power they did! Anything Ronald did with the nuclear fire they’d been given was on Martin and Martin alone – he knew that very well.

It was why he was so protective of his research, so unwilling to even consider letting Eiling have it, not even if he could bargain for Ronald’s safety with it. _He’d_ built the FIRESTORM matrix and he refused to let it be turned into a weapon – not unless Ronald was the one holding the controls.

He met his partner’s gaze furiously. “If that’s the way you feel,” he snarled, “then perhaps you should never have rescued me in the first place!” Without waiting for Ronald’s reply he spun away from the other man, uncaring about the direction he was going as he stormed off.

He’d always known that Ronald had resented the fact that they’d had to flee, but perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps it was Firestorm, and Firestorm’s abilities, that Ronald resented. If so, their decision to spend time apart was the best one they’d had yet.

* * *

Ronnie realized he’d gone a step too far the second he’d said what he had, but he was still angry and frustrated. What he’d told Martin some time ago was the truth, that becoming Firestorm had saved his life the night of the particle accelerator explosion, but everything that had come after that… Maybe he did somewhat resent the abilities he’d been given and he was in no mood to talk to the man responsible for those abilities.

The past few days had been frustrating and the two of them had had their conversation in anger, something they never should have done. Neither one of them had been thinking straight.

Normally – or at least, back when they’d been on the run, which was really the only experience Ronnie shared with the professor – they would have _had_ to reconcile immediately, or at least push past it. They’d depended on each other too much to allow themselves to be at odds. But just once, Ronnie wanted to be able to storm off in anger and not have to immediately _fix_ things.

He knew he shouldn’t be blaming Martin – Eiling was the cause of all their troubles – but Martin was a convenient target. It didn’t help that he was feeling twice as much anger as he should, both his own and his partner’s.

Shaking his head he made his way in the opposite direction Martin had gone, knowing they would have to fix things but resenting the way his and the professor’s lives were so thoroughly intertwined that they weren’t even allowed to be angry with each other.

* * *

The problem with Black took up the next two days, and through it all Ronnie and Martin skirted around each other, remaining cordial but barely speaking. The high of returning home had worn off for the both of them as they’d come to resent the fact that their situation had remained pretty much the same, albeit with a roof over their heads each night and food in their stomachs. They weren’t just struggling with separating, they were struggling with being so close to home but unable to actually return.

_Maybe_ , Ronnie thought to himself several times, _if we actually were at home, separation wouldn’t be so hard._ But they couldn’t risk it. That meant that Ronnie still wasn’t sleeping well and he could tell that the professor wasn’t either. It didn’t mean that he was ready to apologize.

Caitlin worked on understanding Black’s abilities, managing to grow an entire clone of the man from a few cells and learning that the replicates were useless without instructions from the original: take down the original and the clones would no longer be an issue.

Cisco came up with high-calorie protein bars to allow Barry to get enough to eat given his high metabolism.

Clarissa stopped by each day and, Ronnie was surprised to note even though he knew he shouldn’t be, ended up spending almost as much time with Caitlin as she did with her husband.

And when the clone Caitlin had created started moving, they knew what it meant. Firestorm spent the merge in silence, neither Ronnie nor Martin really communicating with each other, but merge they did and together they helped Barry stop Danton Black.

Fire was very useful at pushing back the seemingly never-ending onslaught of clones that Black created, and when it was all over and Black forced Barry to let go of his arm and drop him off the side of Stagg Industries, flight enabled Firestorm to catch him before he hit the ground.

Of course, that was when they found out that Black was the least of their problems. As Ronnie landed, flying awkwardly with the burden in his hands (he’d never flown while carrying something before and his efforts could probably be better described as falling slower than gravity called for) a police car screeched to a stop in the parking lot in front of them, lights blazing and sirens blaring.

Before Ronnie even had time to process the turn of events the two men in the car stepped out, staying behind their doors as they raised their guns.

“Hands where we can see them!” came the slightly hysterical order.

Ronnie recognized the men: it was the detective who’d gone after Mardon, the man he’d since learned was Joe West, Barry’s foster father, as well as his partner (Eddie Thawne?).

Black, shaken by his fall, or perhaps by the fact that his attempt at suicide hadn’t been successful, had collapsed on the ground where Ronnie had dropped him. He didn’t move.

Ronnie took a few steps away from him, giving the police easier access to the criminal, but one of the two guns followed his movements and he froze. These weren’t Eiling’s men, but their guns weren’t any less dangerous. Internally, fear surged across his link with the professor, emanating from both sides. Martin didn’t say anything, but Ronnie would almost swear he could feel the other man’s attention sharpen. It was a scene straight out of both of their worst nightmares.

He slowly raised his hands but didn’t douse his flames. He wanted to be able to flee at a moment’s notice and he didn’t want either of the detectives to get a good look at his face. That was when Barry showed up, speeding to a stop on the other side of Black. What had been empty space one moment was filled the next and both the cops flinched. While West kept his gun trained on Firestorm, his partner seemed torn between pointing his at Barry or Black.

“We’re just trying to help,” Ronnie said slowly, but a voice in the back of his mind ( _not_ Martin’s, but his own) told him it was pointless. These weren’t Eiling’s men, but they were still afraid of what Firestorm was capable of. _They’re police,_ Ronnie tried to convince himself, _they’re the good guys._ But he couldn’t quite make himself believe it. He was tense, ready for a fight, and he knew the professor was too. Barry might be able to outrun bullets, but Firestorm was going to have to rely on their nuclear blasts if they wanted to avoid getting shot.

“I asked about you, after last time,” West said harshly, regaining his focus and refocusing on Firestorm. “You’re wanted for treason against the United States government.”

Of course – why hadn’t they considered this possibility? The army didn’t really have jurisdiction on American soil, but if Eiling gave the cops just enough information then nowhere in America was safe. Ronnie was suddenly very, very grateful that they’d avoided the police during their time on the run. There was no one in the government they could trust. He prepared to fly, knowing that he might get shot in his escape but unwilling to surrender, except movement from Barry made him hesitate.

The scarlet speedster took a step forward. “Detective West…” he started, vibrating his voice in an attempt to disguise it.

West’s partner came to a decision, quickly aiming his gun at Barry. “Backup’s on the way,” he said strongly. “Don’t even think about it.”

Barry froze, and there was a tense moment in which no one moved.

“Get out of here, Barry,” Ronnie mumbled into the open connection between them.

Barry subtly shook his head. He took another small step forward, hands raised. “Joe,” he commanded, and this time he didn’t alter his voice.

The familiar tone and the familiar address was enough to get the seasoned detective to look away from Firestorm, even if his gun didn’t waiver.

With a quick movement (though probably slow for him), Barry pulled off his hood. “We’re on your side.”

( _“I hope Mr. Allen knows what he’s doing,”_ Martin said worriedly, absentmindedly, absorbed in what was happening. So did Ronnie.)

West flinched back, Firestorm forgotten as he stared at his foster son, and his partner lowered his own gun in confusion.

“Barry?” he asked.

Barry’s gaze flickered over to him, then back to Joe. “I’ll explain everything,” he promised. “Come to STAR Labs after you bring Black in.” His gaze moved over to Firestorm, and Ronnie didn’t have to be a genius to know what it meant.

With the detectives distracted he pointed his hands at the ground once more and took to the sky. When he looked down again, a hundred feet above the parking lot, he saw a streak of red lightning race away towards STAR Labs.

“We’re about to have company,” Barry told their teammates back at STAR Labs. “Be prepared.”

* * *

“We agreed that you would keep your identity safe for a reason!” Dr. Wells argued fiercely. “You cannot just reveal what you are capable of to everyone you come across!”

“Joe isn’t just anyone!” Mr. Allen argued right back. “Iris and I already agreed that we were going to tell him.” His gaze shot to Ms. West at his side.

They were back in STAR Labs, having gathered everyone who knew about metahumans, including Clarissa and Iris West. When Joe West and his partner did arrive looking for answers, the group would be ready for whatever happened.

“And Eddie can be trusted,” Ms. West added.

“Besides,” Mr. Allen continued immediately, “he was going to arrest Ronnie and the professor.” He shot Firestorm a look that said _or worse_ , but Martin was grateful that he didn’t mention the gun that had been pointed at them. Clarissa worried enough already.

Dr. Wells let out an exasperated sigh, turning away, but he didn’t voice any more arguments.

Truth be told, Martin was wary of letting the detectives in on their secrets. He’d never had reason to fear the police before – even on the run they’d avoided them more because they worried that they’d be arrested for loitering or other excuses stemming from the fact that they were homeless then from fear of the actual police. In Martin’s mind, the police had always been the good guys.

But having a gun pointed in their face was more than enough to remind them of the dangers he and Ronald were in. Even in Central City, even back home, they were far from safe, and now the good officers of the CCPD were part of the threat against them.

Treason was a very serious crime, and one that Eiling might even have believed, given his desire to create supersoliders. For once, Martin felt similarly to Dr. Wells and was hesitant to let anyone else in.

Judging from Ronald’s emotions, and the fact that he hadn’t suggested separating despite their ongoing arguments, Martin’s partner seemed to feel the same way.

If Detective West and his partner were to be told the truth, it didn’t mean they had to know the _whole_ truth. Firestorm’s dual nature, at the very least, would remain a secret.

* * *

By the time the detectives arrived the mood in the room was tense. Ronald had taken up a spot against the wall where they could survey the entire room. Caitlin was on one side of them, slightly further from the wall and closer to the center of the room but still nearby. Clarissa was on their other side, shooting them nervous glances from time to time as if hoping to see Martin staring back at her.

Martin longed to reassure her, but even her worry wasn’t enough to get him to suggest unfusing. He was safer as Firestorm, and he knew she knew that too.

Cisco stood to the other side of Caitlin, farther from the wall still and closer to the center of the room. Mr. Allen’s suit had been returned to the manikin behind him and despite their visitors there was no point in hiding it, not after what the detectives had already seen.

Dr. Wells was both in front of and to the left of Cisco, almost centered in the room with his wheelchair behind the center row of computers that had once controlled most of the accelerator’s functions. Mr. Allen and Ms. West stood in front of it. Their backs were to the door, but as the sound of the elevator opening reached the room they both spun, looking apprehensive.

Martin felt Ronald tense and readied himself for the possibility that the coming confrontation might not end well.

Neither of the detectives had their guns drawn as they stepped hesitantly into the room, but Martin’s eyes were drawn to their holsters anyway, and the ready way they held themselves. These men were not soldiers, but something in their bearings still made his instincts scream at him to run. Judging from a sudden spike in Ronald’s emotions – that combination of fear and determination that was becoming far too familiar to Martin – he too recognized something of their pursuers in the men in front of them.

But this _was_ Mr. Allen’s foster father, Martin reminded himself. He’d trusted Barry enough the first time. _Or maybe he’d just been too surprised to act_ , the pessimistic part of Martin suggested. He pushed that aside and took a (mostly imaginary) deep breath, trying to calm himself. Ronald felt his emotions as strongly as he felt Ronald’s – some calm would do them both good.

Eiling was a power-hungry madman, but those descriptors did not apply to all men who served the law. Surely the truth could get the two detectives to see reason. Surely.

Both of the detectives seemed surprised by the number of people in the room, and their eyes definitely flickered to Firestorm in the back, but in the end they both settled their gazes on Mr. Allen and Ms. West in the front of the room.

“Iris?” Detective Thawne asked in surprise.

“Someone better explain to me exactly what’s going on here before I arrest all of you,” Detective West half-ordered. His tone was serious and wary, but Martin also recognized something in his voice that said he was simply a father worried about his child (children). He _did_ want an explanation, ASAP, but he might not necessarily attempt to follow through with his threat. Hopefully.

“We were going to tell you this weekend, Joe,” Barry said quickly, taking a step forward and putting himself between the detectives and the rest of the room. His eyes moved quickly between his foster father and Detective Thawne. “I promise. But there’s… there’s a lot to explain.”

“Start at the beginning,” Detective West responded impatiently.

“Well,” Dr. Wells said calmly, moving his wheelchair forward somewhat so that he could be seen from behind Mr. Allen, “I suppose that’s where I come in.”

Detective West frown unkindly at him. “What do _you_ have to do with all this?” he asked.

“Because everything started when my accelerator exploded,” Dr. Wells said, keeping his tone calm and even. “Your son’s abilities, Firestorm, Mardon, Black – they are all what we call metahumans, people affected by the dark matter the accelerator released.”

“Metahumans?” Detective Thawne asked. His tone wasn’t as harsh or as threatening as Detective West’s but his gaze and stance were just as wary and as prepared for a fight.

“I’m fast now,” Mr. Allen answered. He glanced back at them. “And Firestorm… well, you’ve seen what Firestorm can do.”

“The tornado?” Detective West asked, putting the pieces together with a sense of understanding in his eyes and voice. “The wind Mardon threw at us?

Mr. Allen nodded. “Look, I promise I’ll explain everything,” he repeated, “but Firestorm isn’t a threat. They’re one of the good guys.”

“He’s wanted for _treason_.”

Ronald took a step forward, causing both detectives to shift their bodies to better face him. Neither of them reached for their guns, but it was a close thing.

“There’s a general in the army,” he said, “who liked the idea of what I’m capable of. He wanted to use me to create his own army of supersoliders. I disagreed.”

For the past several months, uncaring of who heard him, Ronald had constantly referred to Firestorm as the two people that they were. Now he returned to singular first-person pronouns, giving the detectives absolutely no indication of Firestorm’s dual nature even as Barry used the pluralized form (though they’d become something of mentors to the younger man, Mr. Allen still didn’t really understand all they’d been through). Martin knew that that secrecy protected Ronald almost as much as it did him, but he still felt a wave of gratitude towards the other man.

They still had a lot to talk about, arguments to settle and move past and discussions to hold about returning to their lives one day, but in that moment, Martin was ready to talk about it. _No more sulking_ , he decided. The adrenaline in his system, the threat to Firestorm, had cleared his mind. Once this conversation was over and done with, provided it all went well, he and Ronald would be having a real conversation – one in which neither of them walked away in anger.

In the meantime, Ronald’s words had gotten both of the detectives to relax slightly. There was obviously still a lot to be said, but Mr. Allen’s earnest honesty and Ronald’s simple admission did a lot to assuage the worry in the two men. Detective West glanced around the room again, taking in everyone (who were in turn all watching him carefully).

“Tell me everything.”


	3. Heroes

Too many people knew about the Flash, despite the fact that Barry Allen hadn’t even come up with the name yet.

Firestorm had been a foreseeable complication – ever since Raymond and Stein had gone on the run Eobard had been waiting for the day when they’d return (hoping they wouldn’t but waiting for it nevertheless). Except then both Raymond and Stein had encouraged Barry to tell Iris West, and then the three of them had involved Detective West and his partner to keep Firestorm safe – Eobard’s own ancestor for Pete’s sake! – and it was all spiraling out of control too quickly for Eobard to grab hold of.

Firestorm was his biggest problem, Firestorm was the reason the others knew. Eobard had taken a risk when Barry had first woken up, hoping that the changed timeline, and his own presence in it, would have been enough to convince Barry Allen not to take up the mantle of the Flash (he needed the man’s speed to make it home, not his heroics). Eobard had calculated the risks and decided that trying to stop Barry from going after the Weather Wizard was worth it. He hadn’t truly expected it to work, but he’d figured that either way he could turn things to his favor: either it had worked and he’d cemented his place as Barry’s mentor, or it hadn’t and he ended up with a change of heart, helping Barry when the young man started to perform heroic deeds worthy of the Flash.

It’d gone the second way, with Barry grateful for his assistance and ‘Harrison Wells’ becoming part of the Flash’s team, but there had been an unexpected variable that had tossed all of Eobard’s careful calculations out the window.

If it hadn’t been for Firestorm’s abysmal timing, everything would have gone perfectly. But the dual metahuman had arrived in the middle of his argument with Barry and, no matter what happened in the future, whether Barry was consciously aware of it or not, Firestorm would always be the one who had said ‘yes’ while Harrison had said ‘no’.

It had already started. Barry trusted Harrison, yes, and he respected and looked up to him as a scientist and he followed his lead in the field but the position of mentor was slowly being filled by someone else.

Raymond and Stein were fellow metahumans, ones who had been dealing with powers that they still didn’t fully understand for months now. Barry had things in common with them that he didn’t share with anyone else he knew, and it was them he was starting to turn to for advice.

It was them who had convinced him to tell his future wife the truth, and it was for them that he had revealed what he was capable of to Joe West and Eddie Thawne.

Harrison was part of the team, sure, but his position as the team’s leader was still uncertain. Raymond was under his thumb, as were Caitlin and Cisco, but Stein was not. The other man was too arrogant for that, too much of a well-known and respected scientist of his own right to ever look up to Harrison Wells.

No, Stein respected him only as a peer, as another ‘accomplished mind’ to bounce ideas off of, and nothing more. He would follow Eobard’s lead only when he agreed with it and wouldn’t hesitate to voice his disagreement if he thought otherwise. Stein, as Eobard had realized when he’d first been told of Firestorm’s survival, would be a problem.

He could manipulate the other man – Stein was arrogant enough that a little flattery would go far – but that would require patience. It would require him to watch everything Stein did, to steer him away from Barry if he got too close. That solution would take time and effort away from getting Barry to run faster, and if there was one thing Eobard wanted more than anything it was to get the hell out of the backwards time period he was stuck in. He was cognizant enough of his own impatience to know that monitoring every move Stein made wasn’t a solution that would work for him. Not when he was so close to achieving his goal.

Besides, with the detectives involved as well there were yet more people influencing Barry, more people he couldn’t eliminate. He needed to find a way to ensure that it was him that Barry listened to, him that Barry looked up to. He needed to find a way to discredit every other possible mentor in Barry’s life.

Joe West seemed to disapprove of Barry’s attempt at fighting crime. Iris West was dating Eddie Thawne. Raymond and Stein were impatient to return home while at the same time fearful of General Eiling, and their tempers rose the longer they stayed in STAR Labs.

These were all things Eobard could exploit. They were all things he would have to exploit, to leave behind the terrible world he’d found himself stuck in all those years ago.

* * *

“Have you seen the news?”

It was the day after their circle of eight had expanded to ten and two detectives from the CCPD had been brought up to speed on Mr. Allen’s and Firestorm’s stories – as well as the no doubt numerous metahumans now living in their midst. Mostly. Iris West, her father, and her boyfriend Eddie Thawne still didn’t know that Firestorm wasn’t one person but two.

It was a truth that he and Ronald had agreed to keep from them and though Mr. Allen had been insistent that they were trustworthy, he’d gone along with their wishes so far.

Ronald looked up from his book at Martin’s statement, quirking an eyebrow. They’d had a good, long, and honest discussion the previous night as well, and though they’d gotten frustrated with each other several times they’d forced themselves to remain and talk things out.

Now they’d actually voiced out loud what they had known earlier to be true: most of their frustration stemmed from their circumstances, not from their partners’ actions.

“No,” the younger man said, curious. “Something about Eiling?”

“Stagg,” Martin corrected. He knew his suspicions wouldn’t help, given all the arguing they’d done lately, but he wasn’t willing to keep them to himself either. He had to tell _someone_ , and however much Ronald didn’t believe him, he was the most likely to listen, if only because of everything they had been through together.

Ronald frowned. “Stagg?” he asked in confusion. “But…? He’s not saying anything about Barry or Firestorm, is he?”

“He’s dead.” Martin tossed his newspaper into Ronald’s lap at the pronouncement, open to the relevant page, and studied his partner’s reaction carefully – both with his eyes and with his mind. Ronald blinked, shock filling his half of the connection.

“Dead?” he asked in astonishment, more from disbelief than from any need to have his question answered, Martin guessed. “But…” he shook his head. “He was fine when we left him.”

“Exactly,” Martin replied.

Ronnie’s gaze shot upward, disapproval replacing his shock.

Martin quickly shook his head. “I don’t want to argue about this again, and I’m not going to force you to see my point of view,” he said. “I just wanted you to know.” Just wanted someone else to have all the pieces of the puzzle, just wanted someone else to be thinking about what might or might not have been going on behind their backs.

“That you think someone sold us out to Eiling?” Ronald said bitterly. “You’ve made that pretty clear.”

Martin forced himself to think before he spoke again. “Regardless,” he continued. “That wasn’t what I came here for. I have a new idea.”

Ronald seemed to push aside his own irritation. “Yeah?”

Martin held out his hand. To anyone else it might have looked like he was extending his arm for a handshake but Ronald wasn’t anyone else. With all that they had been through together, with all that Firestorm was capable of, one simple gesture now meant so much more to them.

Martin was asking Ronald to trust him, while at the same time trusting Ronald. Each time they grasped hands they, by definition, were working together. They couldn’t merge otherwise.

Ronald glanced at the offered hand, then stood and took it without hesitation.

* * *

“So, what’s the plan?” Ronnie was hovering in the sky above Central City, drinking in the sunlight, reveling in his ability to fly, enjoying his powers for once, instead of fleeing to or from something. Even if the professor’s plan didn’t work, merging had been worth it just for this. He and Martin had known they were feeling cooped up – it had been part of their discussion the previous night – but once more Ronnie thought to himself that they really needed to get out more.

_“Be seen,”_ Martin replied simply. Maybe it was just Ronnie’s imagination, but the other man didn’t seem as tense as he had been the past few weeks. The fresh air seemed to be doing them both good.

Ronnie closed his eyes, reveling in the moment once more, breathing in the cool, thin air that could be found at such altitudes, then opened them again, looking down at Central City sprawled out beneath them.

“Alright, pretty sure we’ve already accomplished step one,” he said easily. It was a joke, but Ronnie genuinely did want to know more about Martin’s plan. The older man had been fairly pessimistic in the past about their chances of avoiding Eiling forever and if he was actually excited about a plan of his than Ronnie was too.

_“Thus far,”_ Martin continued, _“we have only left STAR Labs to fight crime. Rumors of our existence are growing stronger, but they are still mostly rumors. What if we changed that?”_

“Hasn’t our entire strategy so far basically consisted of running and hiding?” Ronnie countered, but he was intrigued despite his words.

_“And yet you’ve seen the reaction this city has had to both us and Mr. Allen,”_ Martin said. _“It was actually Ms. West who gave me the idea.”_

“Iris?”

_“She was most… enthusiastic, about meeting us. If Eiling had captured us while we had been on the run, then no one would have been the wiser, and even when you rescued me the first time there would have been no one to tell about the disappearance of an already missing nuclear physicist and a supposedly dead engineer. But if Eiling were to capture us now…”_

“People would notice.” Ronnie’s emotions latched onto Martin’s plan as if it was the only lifeboat in the ocean, but his brain forced him to stop and think things through before he let himself get too excited. “So, when you say we need to be seen…”

_“We need to let the people of Central City know that Firestorm is real, and on their side. That way, Eiling won’t be able to take us without drawing attention. He may be power hungry, but we’ve got Mr. Allen to back us up now – as well as potentially an entire city.”_

“Be seen,” Ronnie mumbled to himself, looking down again as he considered every aspect of the plan he could think of. “I think we can do that.”

* * *

Given that the two of them took the form of a man literally on fire flying through the sky, being seen wasn’t hard. He and Ronald began to leave STAR Labs every day, whether there was a call on the police radio they could respond to or not. The news began to talk about them wholeheartedly, and photos and video sprung up all over the internet. There was little to _do_ whilst flying about Central City, but they found ways to pass the time: Ronald began to practice his flying again, and while they weren’t exactly rescuing cats from trees (neither he nor Ronald thought that mixing fire with small animals was a good idea) they _were_ helping.

Car accidents were the most visible problem they could help with, even though that mostly involved getting the cars out of the way so that the traffic could flow while they waited for the tow trucks – there were few accidents that involved serious injuries and plenty of minor fender benders. But there was also the occasional daytime robbery, or a random argument about to get violent that simply by flying nearby they could put to a stop.

Fires were the easiest situation they could handle, because they couldn’t be burned as Firestorm even if smoke inhalation was an issue. Still, even an area as large as the one that contained Central and Keystone Cities didn’t have too many large fires.

So they flew at night too, much more noticeable, and got to know every inch of the city from above.

More than once, if they lingered too long in one area, they became aware of someone watching them. Eiling’s men weren’t obvious, per se – they didn’t go out visibly armed and in uniform – but they didn’t exactly make a show of hiding either. They always wore jackets which could conceal a weapon, almost always had sturdy boots on their feet, and always had short hair. Maybe someone else wouldn’t have noticed them amongst the crowds they gathered in, but Ronnie and Martin had months of practice. One of them inevitably noticed something.

None of the men did anything but watch and Martin couldn’t help but hope that Eiling was receiving the message he was trying to send – that as heroes, as Central City’s heroes, they were untouchable.

* * *

Finally. He was _finally_ done. Cisco had worked on Barry’s suit for months, but that had been before he’d even really met Barry (staring at the guy in a coma didn’t count, even if he had whiled away certain stretches of boredom by scrolling through the man’s social media pages). Plus, that had been him building the suit from scratch – designing the materials and all.

Now he was tailor making it, true, but it had only taken him a couple of weeks to scrounge up enough raw materials and create an entirely new suit. And with all that had been happening the past few weeks – with all the other projects that he’d also been working on – Cisco was damn proud of how quickly he’d built it.

Unable to contain his excitement, Cisco quickly reached for the building’s PA system. It was technically the middle of the workday, so Dr. Wells and Caitlin were working on their own projects somewhere and Barry was across the city at his own job. Ronnie and the professor had been heading out more often than not these days, but at the moment Cisco knew they were somewhere in the building.

“Hey, Ronnie! Professor!” he called out over the intercom. “I’ve got something you’ll want to see.”

He took his finger off of the button and sat back to wait. It wasn’t long before footsteps echoed in the hall outside his lab and Cisco found himself fidgeting, bursting with barely-contained energy as first Martin and then Ronnie entered the room.

“What’d you build this time?” Ronnie asked casually, looking around the cluttered workspace with interest.

Cisco grinned, then pulled back the sheet over his latest creation. Both Ronnie and the professor froze, locking eyes on the suit he’d build specifically for Firestorm. It was much the same as Barry’s, especially regarding the materials he’d used to build it and the sensors built into the fabric, but Cisco had changed the color – a mix of red and yellow, mostly red but with a yellow chest plate of sorts – left the top of the hood open and gloves off – he didn’t want to smother any flames and wasn’t sure how Firestorm would function if those areas were covered – and thrown a different design on the front.

Whereas Barry had a lightning streak on his chest, Firestorm’s suit had a very simplistic model of an atom on its front, a large nucleus with a few electrons branching off.

“What d’you think?” Cisco asked, pleased by their reactions.

Martin stepped forward to feel the fabric. “Well,” he said. “It’s certainly impressive, but I’m not the one who has to wear it. Ronald?”

Ronnie shook his head. “You didn’t need to _hide_ this from us,” he said incredulously, looking impressed as well.

Cisco shrugged. “Thought you guys could use a pleasant surprise, for once. Besides, if you’re going to be heroes you might as well look the part.”

“You’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Ramon,” Martin said, and Ronnie nodded in agreement, glancing over at the other half of Firestorm.

“Is it ready for us to take for a spin?” he asked. The excitement in his voice was obvious.

“Wouldn’t have told you about it otherwise,” Cisco assured them. He watched the two exchange glances, and when Ronnie moved forward, helped his best friend take the suit off the manikin.

* * *

Flying around Central City as Firestorm hadn’t started because Ronnie and Martin wanted to be heroes. They’d just wanted to be seen, so that Eiling couldn’t disappear them so easily. Even the whole saving people thing didn’t necessarily make them heroes, Ronnie figured – they had the power, they saw someone in trouble, they did something about it.

Purposely _looking_ for crime, on the other hand, listening to the police radio with Barry Allen at their side, was drifting into hero territory. And with the suit that Cisco had made for them…

“Ever picture yourself as a superhero when you were growing up?” he asked in excitement. He and the professor had stepped into the room next door to Cisco’s lab, and Martin was closing the door behind them.

“Doesn’t every kid?” Martin responded, a nostalgic smile on his face. He reached out to Ronnie without hesitation, and without breaking the flow of their conversation. _“Though if I’m quite honest, I spent more of my youth wishing to be a mad scientist – heroic or otherwise.”_

Ronnie – Firestorm – grinned. “I can see that,” he said with a laugh. They’d controlled the merge more than they usually did this time, and he was standing in the empty room in nothing but his boxers, his clothes nowhere to be seen. Ronnie still wasn’t entirely sure where they went (pure energy, the professor had told him, which didn’t really explain much) but he always got them back if they concentrated upon unfusing.

He started pulling the suit on, killing their flames for the moment.  There was no mirror in the room they’d hastily chosen to change in, but Ronnie didn’t even really care much at the moment. He was more focused in the easy way it fit him and allowed him to move. He lit on fire again, pushing off the floor ever so slightly before landing again.

“Ready to see if we can keep it?” he asked Martin. The professor responded by pulling at their bond, and the two of them reformed in their everyday clothes, Cisco’s newest creation nowhere in sight.

“You know,” Martin said once they were face to face again, “I’m not certain you’ve ever told your friends about that particular ability of ours.”

Ronnie saw where he was going with the comment. He grinned. “No time like the present,” he replied happily.

When they stepped out of the room, Caitlin had joined Cisco waiting for them. The expression on the young man’s face fell when he saw them exit the room in the exact same way they’d entered it, with the suit nowhere to be seen.

“What…?” he started to ask, seemingly bracing himself for disappointment.

Ronnie couldn’t hold back a grin. “You’re not the only one with a surprise up their sleeve,” he said, reaching out for Martin. They fused in front of his two friends and pulled off the matter-to-energy conversion flawlessly, Firestorm standing tall in their new superhero costume.

Cisco’s grin was somehow even wider than Ronnie’s own. “ _Awesome_ ,” he breathed. “What do you think?” Nervousness mixed with the excitement and awe on his face.

Ronnie stretched their arms. “Perfect,” he said, the professor agreeing with him, “we both think so. How does it look?”

Caitlin took a step forward, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Heroic,” she said softly, if a little sadly.

Ronnie wasn’t the only one who picked up on her tone. Cisco took a step forward too, speaking rapidly. “It’s not bulletproof,” he said, “but it is tougher than most fabrics. It can absorb some of the energy of any impact and should keep you safer than your everyday street clothes.”

Ronnie smiled down at his fiancée, taking her hand off his cheek and holding it in his own. “It’s perfect,” he repeated. “What do you say we take it for a spin?”

His friends were still taken aback, every now and again, when he seemingly talked to himself, but by now they tended to know more often than not when he was speaking to the professor. Neither of them responded to his question.

_“Gladly,”_ Martin said.

* * *

“Danton Black escaped custody last night – created too many clones and overwhelmed the guards. Mardon is still under heavy sedation in the medical wing. And now you’re telling me that you want to chase after someone who can control poison gas?” Joe West’s voice was incredulous and frustrated, just a tone lower than outright yelling as he vented in front of the group – and more specifically to Barry, his foster son.

There had been a group of murders the previous night and when Barry had been called on the case as part of his day job he’d quickly shared his suspicions about possible metahuman involvement with his foster father, bringing him with him to STAR Labs. Except, as far as Ronnie could tell, Detective West wasn’t adjusting well as his world changed around him. He was unnerved by the possibilities that metahumans presented, displeased that Barry had taken to fighting crime in his spare time, and down right upset that Iris had been brought up to speed on everything.

He was dead set against his daughter and foster son doing anything that even remotely placed them in danger and didn’t think much of the operations at STAR Labs either. And though he’d accepted Barry’s explanation of Firestorm’s story, he was still wary of the nuclear metahuman as well. Ronnie got that he was just worried but the man didn’t seem to understand that Firestorm, at the very least, had been doing this for some time.

Ronnie could feel the professor getting irritated the longer West’s tirade went on. Initially Martin had been just as excited as Cisco, Caitlin, and Dr. Wells at the news of a new metahuman and yet another shift in their understanding of the universe, but now most of his excitement was gone, replaced by frustration. Ronnie was of the opinion that the frustration was even worse than it normally would have been because Martin was currently stuck inside Firestorm, unable to even speak to the detective to tell him off.

“Want me to stop him?” he muttered jokingly under his breath, not really meaning it, as Barry tried to cut through West’s rant to get his own side in.

Martin deflated somewhat. _“Perhaps we should just go after the criminal ourselves,”_ he said, slightly bitter. _“I doubt either of them would notice us leaving.”_

Ronnie rolled his eyes, then noticed the other detective – Thawne – standing off to the side looking uncomfortable. Iris wasn’t there at the moment and with West berating Barry in front of everyone Thawne looked decidedly out of place. He took  a few steps that put him at the detective’s side near the doorway.

“Any suspects?” he asked quietly. (Cisco was now stammering his way through an attempt at explaining his research into technology to prevent metahumans from using their abilities. A year ago, Ronnie would have bee equally as intimidated by the angry detective. A lot had changed since then.)

Thawne glanced over at him. He hesitated a moment, then spoke. “The men killed were all part of the Darbinyan crime family. It could be a rival group, or just someone looking to get revenge.”

Metahumans, being on the run, and army general out for your blood were all things Ronnie had apparently learned to take in stride by now. But becoming Firestorm had taught him exactly nothing about the mob. “That’s… a lot of possible suspects, isn’t it?” he asked.

_“I suppose research is in order then,”_ Martin said, as Thawne only nodded wordlessly. _“Police work seems to be a lot like science that way, from what I’ve seen.”_

“This… doesn’t really seem to involve us,” Ronnie muttered to Thawne, indicating the argument. “Want some help with that research?”

Thawne gave them another look, half-wary, half-amused. “Anything to get out of here,” he agreed after a moment.

The three of them carefully backed out of the room to Barry’s fervent pleas to continue his crime fighting. Ronnie couldn’t help but wonder what his own dad would think if he knew what he was up to. ( _If he even knew you were still alive_ , some part of him reminded the rest of him bitterly).

“So,” Thawne said, speaking at normal volume as they made their way down the hallway. “Nuclear powered?”

Ronnie grinned. For all he’d been worried about involving the police in their little crime-fighting team, Thawne seemed like an alright guy.

* * *

As Martin had said earlier, police work took time. After spending a couple of hours working with Detective Thawne, Firestorm hit the streets once more (they’d received a few texts in the meantime, informing them that the argument had ended and that Barry and Caitlin had left of the CCPD to try and identify the poison gas while Cisco and Dr. Wells had returned to their research on metahuman containment before they went home).

Martin still reveled in their decision to simply be _seen_ by the people of Central City, relishing the freedom of flight and the feeling of the wind through Ronald’s hair. And now, whenever they merged, Firestorm wore a suit much like Mr. Allen’s. It made them more identifiable and, Martin had to admit, bolstered both of their moods.

It was just clothing, just an outfit, but there was something empowering about wearing an easily identifiable costume – a superhero’s disguise – whenever they were Firestorm.

_“Down below,”_ Martin said, keeping an eye out on the things that Ronald wasn’t currently looking at. Firestorm’s gaze turned downward. They were above the city at the moment, higher than Central City’s tallest skyscraper but lower than the clouds and the little air traffic above – there was nothing for them to maneuver around as they stared at the city beneath them. The cars looked smaller than toys, the pedestrians barely noticeable as more than colored dots.

But it was the middle of the afternoon in this slice of America and the city was bustling with movement. Though sound was muffled as far up as they were they could still hear the background noise of cars and people and the hundreds of devices and buildings that sent electricity humming through the city.

It didn’t take Ronald long to notice what had caught Martin’s eye: a car threading its way through traffic far faster than it should have. There were no police vehicles following behind it just yet but that was unlikely to last as a cacophony of honks from angry drivers greeted the runaway vehicle’s latest charge through a red light.

“Green four-door, totally ignoring all traffic laws?” Ronald asked in clarification.

Martin hummed mentally in agreement. _“You know,”_ he said casually as the people and objects on the ground grew larger – relatively speaking, _“I don’t believe we’ve ever stopped a car chase before.”_

“It’s not really a chase yet,” Ronald pointed out.

_“It’s about to be.”_ He could feel Ronald’s amusement at the answer and spared a thought for how casual the conversation felt despite the circumstances. When had his life become this? This casual disregard for his own safety as he and his twenty-three-year-old other half – literally speaking – flew through the air above Central City’s streets in an attempt to stop a reckless criminal?

And yet, it didn’t feel out of place or strange, not after the months running from city to city, stopping muggers and assaults all the while, not after the nearly two months they’d spent in Central City already, fighting crime by Barry Allen’s side.

Ronald’s words brought him back to the present as they swooped over the traffic below them, turning heads and causing no small number of people to stop and point. “I think Barry stopped a car chase once.” His words were slightly strained, given that he was flying faster than the cars below them in an attempt to catch up to the speeding vehicle – child’s play for them, given how fast they could go, but still an effort that required some exertion – but otherwise his tone was equally as conversational.

_“Really?”_ Martin asked with interest. He hadn’t been around for that conversation. _“How did he manage that?”_

“Barry said it was all sort of happening in slow motion for him so he just sort of, well… I think he said he just opened the car door, pulled the man out, and put him in the cop car chasing them.” Ronald slowed to match the green car’s speed as they pulled up above it, matching its wild turn as it quickly hung a right and switched streets.

Martin took a moment to process Ronald’s words. If he’d had a body, he would have blinked in astonishment. _“Not an option for us then,”_ he said after a moment.

There was a sliver of answering amusement from Ronald but Martin could tell that the bulk of the other man’s concentration was being used in an attempt to solve their problem. His own mind was similarly working. Neither of them suggested sending a fireball towards the other car. There were too many things that could go wrong that way.

Cars didn’t often explode the way they did on television, but the fireball could still ignite the gas tank and a car on fire wasn’t much better than an explosion in their circumstances. Not to mention the fact that the car was traveling at high speeds, taking sharp turns every now and again – an impact of significant force in the wrong place could tip the car over. No, there was too much danger of hurting the driver or anyone else nearby, even with a well-placed fireball.

Ronald took them around yet another corner as the car’s tires screeched against the pavement. Behind them two other vehicles collided to avoid the green car they were chasing and Martin could feel Ronald’s hesitation.

_“Emergency vehicles are no doubt already on their way,”_ he reminded the other man. _“Besides, they were traveling at much slower speeds than our quarry.”_

Ronald shook his head slightly, doubt coloring his emotions, but he picked up speed again, aligning them above the racing car once more. Thankfully they were moving away from the crowded streets anyway, away from the heart of downtown Central City. The buildings around them became shorter and shorter and the people became fewer and fewer as they raced at speeds the roads beneath them were not meant to be traveled on.

“I could try to grab it from behind,” Ronald suggested as they flew over another intersection (thankfully this time the light had been green).

Martin shook his head. _“You would only…”_ he started to say, then stopped as an idea occurred to him. _“Melt it!”_ he declared, buoyed up by the possibilities his idea had suggested in his mind.

The other man’s confusion was clear. “You want me to melt the car?”

_“No, the_ tires _!”_ Martin said excitedly.

Confusion morphed into understanding and Firestorm drifted toward the right side of the vehicle, rather than where they had been centered above it, keeping pace.

“Still the risk of popping a tire,” Ronald warned, even as their altitude lowered.

_“Heat it as slowly as you can,”_ Martin agreed, _“unless you can think of another way to stop the vehicle.”_

Across their bond came agreement from Ronald, the kind Martin would never be able to explain to another person. It wasn’t communication – their bond was empathic only, not telepathic, and no words ever passed between them that way. Rather it was a combination of emotions that somehow said ‘yes’: determination, perhaps, mixed with the anticipation and confidence that came with making a decision.

He fell silent himself, knowing that if Ronald wasn’t responding verbally it was because he was concentrating – knowing this both because he had grown to know the other man and because their connection told him that was the case.

Carefully, now that they were on a relatively sparsely populated road, Firestorm drifted down to fly alongside the right side of the vehicle. It surged forward but Ronald matched the driver’s burst of speed easily, then reached out a hand as he increased the heat they were generating at the moment. They were still a few feet from the tire but Martin could see the shimmer of heat in the air between them and the car that told him his plan was working.

The driver had evidently noticed as well. He – for once they’d flown lower Martin had been able to see inside and catch a glimpse of the driver – swerved right, almost jumping onto the sidewalk and forcing Ronald to pull them upward.

Ronald only spun over the top of the car in a maneuver he’d practiced only yesterday and came down again on its left side without hesitation, throwing another blast of heat outward – this time toward the driver’s side front tire. The car swerved towards them again and Ronald dodged once more. There was no one else on the road with them anymore, the buildings around them empty and abandoned, with broken windows and graffiti covering the walls.

It wasn’t a good neighborhood, Martin noted absently, but the thought didn’t worry him the way it once would have. He’d lived in such places for a short time, after all.

Ronald remained above the car this time as it took another sharp turn, almost lifting onto two wheels as the rubber screeched against the asphalt once more. Their position above the car gave them the perfect vantage point to catch a glimpse of what awaited them further down the road.

Less than five hundred feet from them was an array of armored vehicles blocking their path. Not tanks, exactly, but close enough given who’d been driving them: Eiling stood front and center, unflinchingly staring them down, surrounded by several of his men, all heavily armed. The general was making his move.

The car frantically braked, coming to a stop only two hundred feet from the army as Ronald pulled up short, stopping their own forward motion as quickly as he could and ending up hovering only a few feet behind their quarry. As the driver quickly exited his vehicle and pointed his own weapon at them it became immediately clear that the whole thing had been a trap.

If Martin had had a mouth at that moment it would have been dry with fear. As it was, he was having a hard time separating Ronald’s tenseness and barely controlled panic from his own.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Eiling called to them, satisfaction coloring his features as he gestured left and then right.

Ronald moved his head ever so slightly one way, then the next, hovering twenty feet off the ground and two hundred feet from their worst enemy all the while. Neither of them missed the glint of the sniper’s rifles on the buildings surrounding them.

Panic flooded through them further, from who Martin couldn’t say, and Ronald barely managed to keep their flight from faltering. _Are we faster than a bullet?_ Martin couldn’t help but ask himself, though he knew that wasn’t the real question. He knew they weren’t – the real question was whether or not they were faster than the snipers’ reaction times. It wasn’t a question he wanted to put to the test.

But he squared his figurative shoulders and summoned all the courage he could find. _“We planned for this eventuality,”_ he reminded Ronald, _“and we have backup, somewhere. People who will come looking for us if things go poorly.”_ He was all too aware of the weight of Ronald’s cellphone in his pocket, something they dared not reach for at the current moment.

Ronald didn’t speak, perhaps out of fear of giving Eiling any more information, but he nodded mutely and started to drift slowly toward the ground. Eiling tensed but waved off his men, allowing their feet to hit the ground without any reaction from the army watching their every move

Martin was aware of the tightness of their shoulders, the readiness of their feet. Adrenaline coursed through Ronald’s body, flowing through their blood alongside the FIRESTORM matrix that gave them their power. Ronald’s vision was sharpened, his heart pounding loudly through their ears. Time seemed to pass both slowly and quickly at the same time and when Eiling took a step forward Ronald flared his flames warningly.

“You have no jurisdiction here, General!” He called out loudly, making sure that every solder at Eiling’s back could hear him as well.

Eiling scoffed. “Jurisdiction,” he said with scorn, tossing aside the mere idea of it, “you’re a threat to American security!”

Ronald swallowed and, without encouragement from Martin, spoke again. “Do you think Central City will see it that way?” he asked.

Martin couldn’t help but be proud with how steady Ronald’s voice was, despite the danger. He knew that hearing Eiling’s voice again would have stopped him in his tracks, even if only momentarily, but though they shared much, Ronald didn’t share his experience from the cell at Army Base 28. They had come so far from the frightened men they’d been at the beginning of their journey. Terror still threatened to overwhelm them but they pushed past it, Firestorm standing tall and firm.

If Eiling wanted a fight then a fight was what they would give him. And they’d do there best to make sure all of Central City knew about it.

* * *

Eiling waved his hand subtly at his side, signaling something to one of his men. Out of the corner of his eye Ronnie saw someone shift their position, saw something fly through the air towards them, and reacted instinctively by throwing up a hand and letting out a steady stream of fire. If it had been a bullet he doubted his split-second reaction would have done any good, but though he hadn’t had time to realize it at first, he was pretty sure it hadn’t been a bullet.

For one thing, there’d been no crack of a gun, the sound that haunted his nightmares. For another, there was no pain. Whatever had been fired at them was slower and quieter than a bullet and appeared to have been vaporized by Ronnie’s instinctual reaction.

_“Tranquilizer dart,”_ the professor suggested shortly, almost absentmindedly, more focused on the soldiers still surrounding them.

Ronnie hadn’t wanted to make the first move – both because violence had never really been a part of his life before Firestorm and because the odds didn’t seem to be in their favor – but Eiling had made it for him and there was no more holding back now.  If he couldn’t dodge all the bullets that were sure to come their way then he would have to remove them from the line of fire.

As his flames died the tension of the situation seemed to fill the deserted street that they found themselves on. Seemingly sensing his decision – or maybe they’d just gotten to know each other that well in their time together – Martin spoke.

_“The driver will be our biggest threat,”_ he said.

Ronnie’s gaze flickered to the man closest to them, the one who’d driven the car that had lured them into this trap. He wished he had a way to communicate with the professor without anyone else overhearing them but that was one situation they hadn’t planned for. He wondered, not for the first time, what it must have been like for the other man, able to see everything that was happening but unable to do anything about it.

At least, unable to do anything but warn Ronnie about potential dangers, which was no small measure the structural engineer knew. The other man’s warnings had saved him more than once.

He let his gaze shift back to Eiling, staring the mad general in the eye despite the distance and the fear between them. However much he knew that this was headed for a firefight – Firestorm would never surrender to Eiling willingly, nor would Eiling willingly give up his chance for the ultimate weapon – he wanted to try one last time to prevent the violence that was sure to occur.

“I’ll give you one last chance to walk away!” he called out, heart pounding madly in his chest, throat settling somewhere down in his gut as his body began to anticipate the fight that he had yet to allow his brain to believe was happening. He had no illusions that his offer would be accepted.

As he readied himself to move, watching Eiling’s expression turn into an angry scowl, Ronnie’s mind was suddenly struck by the strangeness of the setting. He would blast forward first, taking out the man in front of them, before flying to the side and hopefully eliminating one of the snipers, but as he planned these movements he remembered where they were – on a deserted street in Central City.

There was a stop light behind Eiling that had just gone from green to yellow, and though most of the buildings around them were cracked and worn, with missing windows, Ronnie could see light shining from inside a building just a little way down the road behind the men with guns. Eiling _had_ to have gotten permission for this, hadn’t he? How else did an army general manage to set up a blockade on a city street?

Whenever Ronnie had pictured their final confrontation with Eiling, it hadn’t been in a place like this. This was dangerous for more than just them – he could still hear the faint sounds of traffic from somewhere behind him and though Ronnie was fairly certain that if he turned around there would be a blockade there as well, there was still a chance that just anyone could wander onto the scene.

With Eiling so desperately power-hungry, willing to go this far just to bring them in, Ronnie didn’t like the chances an innocent civilian would have if they wandered into the crossfire. He had to end this quickly, he knew, but he still wasn’t sure that he could.

Eiling didn’t reply, but as his body shifted, his hand raising once more, Ronnie moved without thinking. He wasn’t going to be taken unaware again, and he wasn’t running from this fight. Because Firestorm could fly while his enemies couldn’t there would always be the option to retreat, but right now a retreat left them wide open to get shot by the snipers watching their every move. Besides, a retreat would never get Eiling to back off.

He sent a fire blast forward, hot and fierce, throwing the driver of the runaway car onto the pavement. Ronnie didn’t stick around to watch the man hit the ground, or even see if his hasty blast had caught the man’s clothing on fire. There was no time for regret or guilt. He immediately pushed off the ground instead, blasting his way as fast as he safely could toward the sniper on their left.

Even in the seconds it took him to reach the roof several guns had managed to fire at him – the acrid scent of gunpowder filled the air along with the sharp retort of each shot. Ronnie’s ears were ringing as he distantly felt something impact his right leg but he ignored all of that. He pushed past his fear, the professor’s fear, the distraction of his senses, and tackled the sniper down to the rooftop.

The man looked for a moment as though he might attempt to face them one on one, but he quickly recoiled from the heat and flames that Ronnie was giving off.

_“His handgun,”_ Martin reminded him before he let the man be, tone tense and higher than usual.

With a quick nod Ronnie reached into the man’s jacket, yanking out the firearm and tossing it to the side. The man yelped, quickly pulling off his now flaming jacket as he backpedaled a quick retreat. Now that the man was unarmed Ronnie didn’t pay him any mind: he didn’t want to hurt anyone that he didn’t have to and he had cover enough now on the rooftop. The gunshots from the street stopped as he ducked completely under the ledge the sniper had taken up position behind, pushing aside the long gun.

_“Ronald,”_ Martin said intensely, low and worried this time.

Ronald swallowed, once more aware of his heart pounding in his chest and also suddenly aware of a pain blossoming in his left thigh. “Oh,” he said blankly, glancing down at the red seeping through the uniform Cisco had only just made for them. If he didn’t regularly set himself on fire he would have described the pain with the tried and true expression of ‘fire in his veins’, but that didn’t seem to fit in these circumstances. He’d already had fire running through his blood. Whatever the case, the pain was intense, bringing him back to the last time Firestorm had been shot.

Ignoring the scent of pine that he knew to be nothing more than memory, Ronnie gritted his teeth, sucking in a deep breath and bending over slightly as he tried to deal with the waves of pain now coursing through him.

_“Pressure,”_ Martin reminded him.

Ronnie shifted forward more, pressing one hand strongly on top of his thigh, hissing at the increase in pain that the movement brought him, and fumbling for his burner phone with his other hand. With shaky fingers he opened up his most recently used emojis and fired off a quick lightning bolt to Barry Allen, letting the phone drop to the concrete beneath him when he was done and pressing down on his injury with both hands. “Now what?” he asked through gritted teeth.

_“I’m no strategist,”_ Martin said, _“but I believe what we have now is what is called a defensible position. We just have to hold out until help arrives.”_

Ronnie squeezed his eyes shut against another wave of pain, aware of the professor recoiling equally inside his head, and nodded ever so slightly, trying to focus on nothing but their breathing. “We can do that,” he managed to say. He thought about suggesting they unfuse, if only to spare Martin their shared pain, but he knew that wasn’t an option at the moment. Eiling’s men could come upon them at any time.

There was shouting from the street below, the sound of movement, boots on the pavement. Ronnie was more focused on the sirens he could hear in the distance. With as often as Firestorm was flying over the city these days there wasn’t always someone at STAR Labs watching their every move on the monitors (thanks to Cisco’s suit, even their vitals could be tracked these days). The hours they’d spent working with Detective Thawne earlier had eaten up most of the afternoon and Ronnie knew it was that intermittent time between everybody leaving work for dinner before returning to STAR Labs at night for life as part of a superhero team.

Nobody was in the building at the moment, which meant that if Barry took a few minutes to check his phone – or even just to make his way to STAR Labs and boot up the software tracking their position – then the sirens (the CCPD) were their best hope. Ronnie found himself desperately hoping that whoever was in the approaching vehicles wouldn’t side with the army.

Well, perhaps not their only hope at least. Despite the pain he was in, Ronnie was fairly certain that he could still fly, though that possibility was looking less and less likely as time passed. His only obstacles were the guns that would no doubt attempt to take him down if he tried to leave – particularly the sniper still positioned across the street.

He shifted so that he was up against the ledge nearest the street, then, in a quick movement, lifted himself up slightly to throw a wave of fire towards the street in front of the building. He had no idea if anyone was there at the moment, but at least it would deter anyone from approaching.

The sirens wailed closer as a few shouts of alarm came from below them and a bullet whizzed over their heads.

_“Perhaps we should remain under cover,”_ Martin rebuked him mildly.

Ronnie wheezed out a laugh, pressing against his thigh once more. “Might be a good idea,” he managed to say.

_“As far as I can tell,”_ the professor continued, _“the doorway in front of us is the only way onto the roof. If Eiling’s men want us –”_

“It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel,” Ronnie interrupted, breathing heavily but taking comfort in the security of the idea, despite the gruesome picture it painted in his head.

_“Yes,”_ Martin said. A moment passed as they waited for whatever Eiling planned to do next. _“Incidentally, I never understood how that expression came to be. Whoever would bother to place fish in a barrel in the fist place?”_

“Pretty sure it’s a metaphor, Professor,” Ronnie said with a faint grin, grateful for the distraction. Down on the street below he could hear tires screeching to a halt as the sirens blared loudly. The police had arrived. Maybe they were on Eiling’s side, maybe it was all part of his plan, but Ronnie didn’t think so.

Eiling had expected Firestorm to surrender, to come quietly like they had in Charleston perhaps. With his two snipers on the rooftops and as many men as he’d had on the ground he’d been relying on intimidation. He hadn’t expected them to fight back. He didn’t know them very well, clearly – as unappealing as the idea of dying was to him, Ronnie knew that death was better than whatever Eiling had in store for them. Eiling didn’t seem to understand that.

Not to mention that his plan had probably been hastily thrown together when Eiling had realized how much attention Firestorm was gaining in Central City. If he’d waited any longer Martin’s plan would have already worked and the whole city would have noticed their absence had anything happened.

Eiling had expected the confrontation to end quickly, so Ronnie had the feeling that whoever was in the police vehicle down below would be too pleased to find the army firing off live rounds in the poorest area of Central City.

Sure enough, he could hear raised voices after a moment, even if his brain couldn’t concentrate enough to make out what was being said.

“There’s only one way to find out if that guy’s with us,” he managed to say, feeling his grip on reality start to fade. His vision seemed a bit hazier than he was used to and he could barely feel the tips of his fingers anymore.

Martin hesitated. _“Ronald…”_

“Either your plan worked or it didn’t,” Ronnie said, “and if we don’t go down there…” They’d never know for sure.

_“Are you up for it?”_

“Only one way to find out.”

Ronnie had no idea of how serious his wound was – Caitlin was the doctor – but he was pretty sure that if the bullet had hit an artery they’d be dead by now (though he would have unfused before ever taking the professor with him). He took his hands off his wound, pulled himself to his feet, and ignited once more.

Going down was easier than going up, even if he stumbled slightly at the landing. Eiling stood face to face with two police officers, two of his own men flanking him. All five turned to Firestorm as they landed, Eiling’s me immediately raising their guns.

But either Martin’s plan had worked or the police were simply more interested in the army general operating on US soil at that moment, because as soon as Eiling’s men raised their weapons the officers raised their own in return, quickly shouting at the soldiers to lower their guns.

After the drama and terror of the shoot-out, it seemed to be over remarkably quickly – or maybe Ronnie was just losing time, slipping in and out of reality as the police officers shouted down General Eiling, backed up by a second squad car that arrived shortly after Ronnie landed (he thought. Time was getting difficult to keep track of).

The truth was, Eiling had gotten impatient seeing Firestorm flying over Central City every day and had overplayed his hand. He’d thought he could take them by surprise and it hadn’t worked in his favor. As badly as he wanted Firestorm he wasn’t so far gone as to go through the four police officers in front of him to get to them. There was still a fight to be had, but it wasn’t Firestorm’s anymore.

Ronnie had no doubt that Eiling would go up the channels, trying to convince anyone with the proper authority that Firestorm was a threat that needed to be stopped. But that was a challenge for the authorities, for the police and the rest of the army that hadn’t been involved in Eiling’s schemes.

Later, neither he nor Martin would fully remember everything that had happened once they’d stood before the police officers. Had they spoken to the other men? Had Eiling growled threats at them? How, exactly, had the police responded to their presence? They would never really recall, but it didn’t seem to matter: their plan had worked, had caught Eiling’s attention and forced him to overplay his hand, and an army general who’d fired weapons in the middle of a US city wasn’t likely to remain a general for much longer.

Maybe the police would have turned their weapons on Firestorm once Eiling had been taken care of. Maybe the police would have taken Firestorm to a hospital. Maybe, with Firestorm still standing there, Eiling would have been able to convince the police to see things his way and Firestorm would have left in the back of one of the army’s armored cars, never to be seen again.

Ronnie would never know what might have happened next, because he and Martin weren’t around to see it. Barry arrived in the nick of time, before the CCPD could figure out what to do with the flaming metahuman and whisked them away at a speed faster than any Ronnie could achieve as Firestorm.

But the blur of even the few seconds it took for Barry to reach STAR Labs with them in tow was too much for Ronnie, on top of his blood loss. He tried to stay awake, wanted to see Caitlin’s face, assure her that everything was alright, but their eyes drifted shut…

* * *

Ronnie spent the next few days in bed at STAR Labs. Caitlin, Martin, and even Clarissa were often by his side, but Barry and Cisco and Dr. Wells had to leave often to stop the latest metahuman criminal. From the stories Ronnie heard, the metahuman didn’t actually control poisonous gas – he became poisonous gas. Barry almost died stopping him, but Cisco and Dr. Wells – with the professor’s help – managed to create something to contain metahumans just in time.

With no time to explain anything to the CCPD – and knowing that they were unlikely to be believed anyway – they built the containment unit in the accelerator, promising the two detectives in the know that they would get it installed in a real prison sooner rather than later.

Firestorm had suffered from some major blood loss, enough that Caitlin had admitted that she wasn’t sure how they’d stayed awake as long as they had, but the bullet had gone in and out of their leg without hitting anything vital. Though Martin had been woozy after unmerging he’d recovered in a few hours and it was only Ronnie who’d been confined to bed rest.

After a couple of days on pain meds, with nothing to do, Ronnie was going stir-crazy and managed to convince Caitlin to give him a wheelchair and the run of STAR Labs. At the moment he was in the break room that had become his and the professor’s kitchen as his other half heated up some leftovers for lunch in the microwave.

Martin was limping slightly, but with Ronnie on medication and with no wound of his own to aggravate with his movements he wasn’t confined to a wheelchair like Ronnie was.

Suddenly, with a strong wind as his appearance displaced the air in the room, Barry appeared before them. “Hey,” he said, grinning at them. “Joe’s on his way – he’s got news about Eiling.”

Ronnie highly doubted the other man would be so enthusiastic if the news was bad news. He glanced over at Martin, hopeful excitement rising and flowing equally through both ends of their bond. Could it possibly finally all be over?

* * *

Despite all that had happened, and their involvement in the world of metahumans, Joe and Iris West and Eddie Thawne still did not know the entire truth about Firestorm. They didn’t know that Firestorm was not one man but two, and even if the threat of Eiling truly _was_ gone, Martin and Ronald were not ready to tell them.

As such, when Barry left the kitchen to go and inform the others at STAR Labs, Martin held out a hand to Ronald, ready to merge again. For the first time in a long time, Ronald hesitated, and Martin knew instantly why.

“I am already feeling your pain, he reminded the younger man. “Becoming Firestorm will not change that. In fact, from what we’ve seen thus far, it may actually make you stronger.”

“Us,” Ronald said, smiling softly as he took Martin’s hand. “It makes us stronger.”

Martin’s answering smile only faded when his body did as he became enveloped in the safety of Firestorm once more. They moved to meet the detective in the main control room, Ronald’s arms pushing hard to wheel them all the way there.

Caitlin and Cisco were waiting for them, both looking anxious but hopeful. Ronald wheeled past Cisco, accepting a fist-bump, then took his place at Caitlin’s side, grasping her hand.

“Whatever he tells us,” he promised her quietly, “we’ll get through it together.”

She nodded, smiling at him, then looked searchingly into their pure-white gaze in a way that Martin had come to recognize as her looking for him inside of her fiancé.

“I called Clarissa,” she said, just as soft as Ronald’s own tone had been. “She won’t get here before Detective West, but she’s on her way.”

_“Give her my thanks,”_ Martin said, grateful. Ronald passed on his words for him.

Joe West was truthfully barely involved in Firestorm’s struggles, but he still had a mildly hopeful and pleased expression as his face when he entered the room. He paused for a moment, taking in everyone watching him closely, then locked eyes with Firestorm. (Martin had to give him props for the easy way he did so – it wasn’t always easily to stare down someone with no pupils or iris).

“General Wade Eiling is under full investigation for firing live rounds on US soil,” he said simply. “He’d managed to blockade the street by filing the paperwork for a drill, but he wasn’t supposed to have any weapons with him, let alone weapons armed with anything other than blanks. It’s unlikely he’ll go to prison – rumor has it he has friends in high places – but he won’t be running anything for the army anytime soon.”

Martin felt the tension drain from Ronald’s body and from his own mind. Nine months. Nine months on the run, nine months of nightmares, nine months away from home, nine months of struggling to survive. Nine months of the torture of knowing that Eiling could be around any corner and finally, finally, it was over.

Eiling wasn’t gone but he was out of power at the moment, out of resources.

The room broke out into cheers and grins, hugs and relieved laughter. All Martin could think about was Clarissa, and how he would finally be going home with his wife.

* * *

Home. Home with Caitlin, home without Martin. No more running, no more hiding. Ronnie hadn’t been sure that he’d ever believed the day would come. Not only had it come and not only was Eiling no longer a threat, but he and Martin were finally able to go home, and there were doing so as heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this series, but there should be a continuation if anyone's interested! I want to get some of it written before publishing though, so don't expect it until at least June. Thanks for sticking with me!


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